


Parallel Synapses Laced with Dopamine

by MichiMe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Doctor Castiel, M/M, Roller Coasters, Romance, Soldier Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 21:11:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 46,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MichiMe/pseuds/MichiMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:  In the future, death doesn't always have to be permanent. The body dies but the memories can continue on, thanks to a new revolutionary science. Doctors called Transitions move memories from one body, to a new, cloned one.  Castiel Novak is one of the best doctors in the field and when Castiel means Dean, both men are in for the shock of their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Author's Notes

Author's Notes: Readers will notice that Castiel's nickname is spelled with the official 'C-A-S-S' spelling. I used this spelling because it was short for 'cute ass'. All italics represent dream sequences or flashbacks. The characterization of Castiel is a combination of all the versions used in the show. This work would not be possible without the following: angelgurl21, HunterImpala, & ejejdibo.


	2. Prologue:  Forebrain

Not much has changed in the very near future. The United States still has the biggest military, most cars still run on gasoline with every few hybrids or alternative fuels on the road. Fossil fuels still provide the largest sources of energy for world. In fact, the very near future is pretty much like the world today only with one vast improvement. Medical technology has leaped forward in almost indescribable ways. While all hospitals were a place of healing, there was one jumped ahead of all the rest.  
  
The units of Saint Prudentius Galindo Hospital, St. PG for short, were shockingly similar to any other hospital units in the modernized world. Doctors, nurses, support staff moved around the hospitals in scrubs, lab coats, and identification badges. Families took elevators to the proper floors to visit patients.  
  
The Orthopedics unit was well known across the nation for their top notch team. It was the leader in limb sparing procedures; patients from all over the country came for treatment. St. PG was the one of the few hospitals that had perfected the complete post-traumatic spinal reconstruction technique. The head of the department was a renowned, stately figure in the medical community that had published some of the most groundbreaking papers for the field.  
  
The Obstetrics/Gynecology unit had made a name for itself by making prenatal diagnosis with less invasive techniques while focusing on the well being of the mother and fetus. The combination labor/delivery/recovery rooms, two well staffed nurseries and a stabilizing area for high risk newborns made birth safe for both mom and baby. Family choices for bonding were respected. The unit had one of the lowest mortality rates in the nation. High-risk women flocked to St. PG and a number of miracles had been performed on that floor.  
  
The other patient related departments: Cardio, Oncology, Infection Control, and Radiology, were all some of the best in their fields and St. PG itself had a reputation for being the place you wanted to be for any kind of medical treatment. A sprained ankle in the ER was treated with just as much courtesy and care as brain surgery.  
  
However, there was one other large, difference between a typical hospital and Saint Prudentius Galindo, because at St.PG, there was a specialized memory movement and relay department. This well-funded department consisted of 15 somewhat anti-social individuals with a very specific, very specialized, healing skill set. These healers, called Transitions, could take the memories of the dying into their own minds and deliver those memories into either a public memory bank or a private, individual body, depending on what the patient and the family desired.  
  
Each Transition had been implanted with a series of neural transmitters that when activated by touch created a temporary, secondary, neuron structure. This structure allowed the Transition to take on a patient’s memories and personality without risk to their own minds. After the implants were in place, any skin to skin contact could trigger the formation of the secondary network and transference.


	3. Chapter One: Telencephalon

On this particular day, one of the memory movement specialist stood in the room of twenty year old, Joanna Beth Harvelle. Jo had been in a vegetative state for 45 days after a traffic accident and her family, deciding it was best to let the body die but allow her memories to continue in a new, cloned body, transferred Jo to Saint PG. She laid on the plain hospital bed, in an average white walled, hospital room, with tubes in her arms, electrodes attached to her forehead, machines monitoring her vitals until the process could take place.

“Doctor Balthazar, you can help my daughter?” Jo’s mother, Ellen, asked as she stood in the hallway outside the room. She nervously plucked at invisible fluffs on the sleeves of her dark gray button up shirt as all the thoughts of what could go wrong flew through her head. Maybe it wouldn’t work and Jo would remain hooked up to all these machines. Maybe Jo wouldn’t be the same. “You can make her whole again?”

“Memory analysis and movement will take your daughter’s memories out of that body and temporarily place them into the transition’s mind,” a tall, blonde man with a British accent stated as he watched his specialist through the window. The bright, sky blue, stitching over the right breast pocket read ‘Sinclair Balthazar, M.D’. “Within a few hours, we will have downloaded Joanna’s memories into the new body. She will be whole again in every way.”

Family communications was a part of Balthazar’s job on his team and he did his job well. Easing a family member’s mind, making sure they understood as much as possible about the process, eliminating the mystery of what was about to happen, listening to the concerns, Balthazar had the social skills and bedside manner to fill all those needs unlike his Transition, who kept the world at arm’s length by figurative and literally.

“Will she remember any of this? The hospital? Being removed from life support?” Ellen worried as she worked her bottom lip in between her teeth. She didn’t like this at all. Maybe this would be one giant mistake and Jo would wake up the moment it started. People did come back from brain damage but every scan showed this wouldn’t be the case for Jo. The machines kept her alive and if they didn’t move Jo soon, the girl would be lost. But was this really what her daughter would want? So many questions without answers and it was driving Ellen insane with worry.

“The process can only take the memories that Joanna is completely aware of,” Balthazar answered as he motioned for Ellen to sit. He had been through this routine enough times to know that Ellen was beginning to doubt the decision. Most likely she was worried the decision to pull the plug even though Jo’s cloned body was ready. “At her age and with her injuries, Jo’s mind is not aware of this portion of her time. Right now, she believes herself to be asleep. If you wish for her to know what happened, that is a family decision.”

“Will any part of Joanna be left behind in him?” Ellen pointed to the dark haired Transition that stood next to the child’s bed. “Or will he be in her?” She let her gaze roam over the doctor trying to determine for herself if this was the right decision. What if they did this and Jo wasn’t the same? What if the new body didn’t accept her memories and were lost?

Balthazar shook his head from his spot by Ellen’s side. “The short answer is no. Transitions never leave a part of themselves behind and they do not leave patient memories inside of their minds. I would be glad explain how that works after the process is completed, if you wish.”

Ellen ran her hands together before she rubbed them against her lap, trying to remove some of the moisture. She wasn’t completely sure about the memory movement process but her husband was adamant that they do this. Ellen wished she had read every article on the process before now, but like the saying goes, ‘hindsight is 20/20’.

“Mrs. Harvelle, let me reassure you that this process is gentle, painless, and has no adverse reactions.” Balthazar spoke with soft yet firm tones that he commonly needed for families in situations like this, “and the Transition you have is one of the most sought after in the world. He is the best for you.”

“Does he have a name?” Ellen looked at the man that stood at Jo’s bedside. He was young for a doctor in her opinion, maybe 30, with a messy head of dark brown hair and wide blue eyes. He wore the typical long white doctor’s coat and she could make out the collar of a sea green turtle neck but not much else thanks to the coat and the wall. “Is he really that good?”

Balthazar realized what Mrs. Harvelle wanted. She needed reassurance that this procedure was not something cold, sterile, and unfeeling. She needed to know that the transition was human and her daughter would be the bright, wide eyed girl that sang and danced, laughed too often and loved butterflies. She needed to know that Joanna’s essence would not be harmed when her memories flowed into the new body. She had heard about organ transplant recipients developing new tastes in music, cravings for foods and drink they didn’t have before the surgery, or new talents. Ellen wasn’t sure if any of that would happen to Jo and if it did, would it be because Jo wanted it or would it be some part of this man?

“His first name is Castiel but we call him Cass,” Balthazar answered with a smile, “due to hospital protocol, I have to withhold the last name.” He glanced over to the doctor behind the glass. “If you would like, I’m sure the hospital wouldn’t mind if you would like to request his credentials. You would need his employee number which I can give to you. And, yes, he is really that good.”

“Cass,” Ellen whispered with a slight smile, as if just having the name somehow made this entire situation completely normal. “How long has he been doing this?”  
“He is one of the first Transitions in the world,” Balthazar answered with a wide grin, “a first generation. He has created several protocols for this field. Believe me, Cass is the most trusted and has the most valuable hands in the hospital.” Balthazar wasn’t lying about that part either. The amount of time and money the hospital invested in the man and into the wing could bankrupt several nations.

Ellen heard that if a doctor requested another doctor, a patient knew they were in good hands. Now she wanted to know if Balthazar really believed in his words. “Doctor Sinclair, if you were in that bed….”

“I would want Cass,” Balthazar answered before Ellen even finished the question, “I have worked with him for years. I trust him completely.”

“How long does it normally take?” Ellen asked as she watched Cass pull up a chair next to her daughter’s bed, then ease himself into the seat.

“There is no ‘normal’ time frame for this,” Balthazar explained while Cass eased off one of the dark gray gloves he always wore for his protection, “Sometimes it’s only a few seconds, sometimes it’s a few minutes but it should not take more than 10 minutes. Even in adults, the process is quick.” Balthazar had yet to see the process take longer than five minutes but protocols allowed for 10 minutes.

“Can you estimate how long it would take for Joanna?” Ellen asked as she watched Cass gently lifted Joanna’s hand from the bed then touched his palm to the younger girl’s.

“For a child of Jo’s age, I would estimate less than five minutes,” he answered as best he could with a slight shrug of the shoulders and a casual tone. “He’s beginning now. If you like, you may go in.”

“No,” Ellen shook her head. “I don’t want to interrupt.” She did, however, rise up in her seat to watch the entire event. She wasn’t about to have Jo undergo some procedure without her watching like a hawk. She might not know much about this memory movement stuff but that wasn’t about to stop her from fighting for Jo. Ellen wanted to make sure the doctor was going his job and that he wasn’t hurting her baby.

Ellen let out a small gasp and nervously covered her mouth with her hand when a dim bluish glow formed between Joanna and Cass. She started to stand only to have Balthazar place his hand on her shoulder. She could tell something was happening but she didn’t know what. She wanted to go into that room and demand the doctor tell her what he was doing. And if she didn’t like the answer, she would pry his hand away and punch him in the nose.

“This is the normal process.” Balthazar explained as they watched through the glass. He needed to keep Ellen as calm as possible so she didn’t interrupt the transfer. “Right now, Cass is attempting to establish the connection. The blue is Cass’s neuron pathways reaching for Joanna.”

The blue glow changed to a purplish pink before Balthazar continued. “And that is Joanna’s pathways responding.”

Ellen watched in awe as the purplish pink glow travelled up Cass’ arm, spreading out like vines until it reached his head then disappeared into the hair line. She covered her mouth with the tips of her fingers, suppressing the tears that pooled in the corners of her eyes. She realized Jo’s path was a beautiful, vivid color and wondered if all patients’ pathways were similarly colored. The knot in the pit of her stomach loosened just a bit seeing how the lights moved. Perhaps this wasn’t such a bad decision after all.

“The memories are moving now,” Balthazar offered quietly as they watched from the outside. “It should not take long.” He watched Ellen, noting that much of the tension gathered in her shoulders loosened with every second. The woman was in awe of the process going on much like every other family. Watching the colors swirl around, knowing they were memories, seemed to ease the shock of the process.

As just Balthazar finished the statement, the glow between their hands gently flickered out. “It’s done.”

“That’s it?” Ellen didn’t believe it would be such a short process. It felt like barely seconds had passed and when she glanced at her watch, she knew it was barely taken three minutes. “He has everything?”

“Cass has everything,” Balthazar answered as Cass stood up and slipped on his glove.

Cass moved quickly out the room and barely flashed a thumbs up to Balthazar before he rushed down the hallway.

“Mrs. Harvelle, your daughter’s memories should be downloaded by morning.” Balthazar got Ellen’s attention before she could go after Castiel. Most families wanted to ask questions and thank the doctors for their work but the Transitions were different. They couldn’t shake hands and when a second pattern was present, their speech was slurred and slow making them hard to understand. That’s why there were allocations teams and people like Balthazar. They could explain while the Transition went about their way. “If you wish, you may remain here with the body while we remove life support. After that, I strongly suggest you report to the Transitional floor so that you and your daughter may get acclimated.”

Ellen nodded before she entered daughter’s hospital room. She bent down and kissed Joanna’s forehead before she brushed a heavy, thick lock of blonde, hair out her daughter’s face. She then turned to Balthazar.  
“She’s not in this body anymore,” Ellen stated with a tired smile. She still worried that something would go wrong yet she wasn’t so uncertain as before and she wanted to be there when Jo woke up. “I would like to go with her.”

Balthazar nodded before he escorted Ellen Harvelle to the Transitional Floor.


	4. Chapter Two: Rhinencephalon

While Ellen waited in the mint green hallways of the floor with an allocation specialist at her side explaining how Joanna would feel when she woke up from the download, Doctor Balthazar sat at a table lined with computers. He watched the screens carefully making sure the numerous displays stayed with the normal range. The download from Cass to the computer moved quickly enough for his tastes, while the upload into the new form seemed to be a little slow. The new form was actually a cloned version of the patient minus any injury or illness. He wasn’t too worried though, as uploads usually took longer than downloads. 

“So how are we looking?” Cass asked as he wiggled his toes. He wasn’t nervous, but the synpatch table was the most uncomfortable piece of equipment known to man. If he didn’t know the history behind the thing, he would have been sure it had been used as a medieval torture device. Numbness in the extremities was a common occurrence and it was hell on the lower back and hips because of the slight upward, unnatural curve. It was supposed to keep the body still and it did to that because no one could move on the damn thing. Wiggling the fingers and toes was the most movement anyone could get when they were in the machine. 

“Besides the fact that you’re wearing those horrible mismatched socks, we are looking fantastic. The implants are well within the normal range.” Balthazar teased as he typed on the keyboard. This was their routine, Balthazar offering a distraction while Castiel remained still through the process. “The download is 97.52378% complete so you should be able to hop down in a few.” 

“I like these socks,” Cass stuck out his tongue before the table hummed, a blue light blinked once and a chime dinged. He slid off the table, stomped his feet to get the circulation going again, and stretched his arms before he rolled his shoulders up and around.

“I still don’t understand why this can’t be padded,” he remarked as he crossed the room and opened the door that led to what they called the ‘control room.’ He pressed his hands into his lower back and tried to make it pop. “An inch of light weight memory foam would do wonders for my back.” 

Balthazar shot him a ‘don’t start with that’ look before he waved Cass over. With the download complete, half of the computer screens went dark, allowing the processor to focus solely on the upload. This meant that Balthazar only had to worry about one display. He was a good enough multi-tasker that he could both watch the diagnose read out and adjust Cass’ back without much effort. 

“Stand up straight,” he instructed as he got up from his chair. 

“Are you going to stretch me out?” Cass teased. This had been part of the routine for as long as they’d worked together.

Balthazar was one of the few assistants that wasn’t completely freaked out by the confusing list of unnerving quirks that Cass had and he was the only man in the hospital that could ever make his back feel better after being on the table. Castiel turned around and presented his back to Balthazar. 

“No I’m going to pop your hips and your back,” he answered as he placed his left hand on Cass’ shoulder then his right hand on the small of his back. He gently pressed in on the spine, then he pulled back on shoulder until he heard the tell tale pop. 

“Better?” He asked as Cass straightened up then removed his hands. 

“Much,” Cass answered as he turned and faced him. “So how is the upload going?” 

“Pretty well considering the equipment needs to be upgraded again,” Balthazar mused as he sat down at the table again.  
“Nothing is out of date or obsolete but it is moving slower than before.” 

“Is there any sign of degradation in the memories?” Cass asked as he pulled up a chair. Anyone associated with memory movement worried for about degradation because it was believed that memory degradation would change a person’s personality but no cases had ever been reported and no one wanted to be the test subject. 

Balthazar shot him a dirty look and scoffed before his eyes went back to the screen. “Do you really think this hospital would allow any of us to function if there was a miniscule sign of memory degradation?” 

“Okay, okay,” Cass nudged Balthazar’s arm with his elbow, “don’t get so bent out of shape. I know you know what you’re doing. I just wanted to ask and make sure.” 

Balthazar twisted his lips into a tight pout before he decided Cass needed to buy his forgiveness. “Buy me dinner tonight at the new little deli down the street and we’re even.” 

“Oh, you just want to flirt with that waiter!” Cass exclaimed with a wide smile. 

“I don’t flirt with the waiter,” Balthazar reasoned, his greenish-blue eyes shining with mirth. “I try to get you to flirt with him.” 

“I don’t flirt!” Cass stuck his tongue out at him again and blew a very long raspberry. “I’m no good at it.” 

“Yes, I know,” Balthazar deadpanned before he turned his attention away from the screen and back to Cass. “However for some reason, your complete failure at understanding attraction cues makes it even more fun to watch.” 

Cass’ cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink as he ducked his chin and rolled his fingertips together. The movements were one of his nervous quirks but it was a very mild and almost all the time, ignorable. 

“So tell me about the patient’s family,” Cass needed an immediate subject change. 

“Well that was about as subtle as yelling fire in a crowded room,” Balthazar teased but humored him with this reply. “The mother was concerned about the whole process, but the father approved it and didn’t appear.” 

“Isn’t that the case most of the time?” Cass mused as he pulled off his gloves and rubbed his hands over his pants. “The father is ready and the mother fusses.” 

“At least the mother didn’t fight,” Balthazar nodded. “This one just needed a bit of reassurance. She didn’t even want to be in the room while it happened.” 

“You did have to explain what was happening though,” Cass kept his hands on his thighs, “I did notice that.” 

“That’s normal, and you know it,” Balthazar remarked. 

“She didn’t stay with the body,” Cass stated with a slight shrug, “I wonder if she’ll regret that decision.” 

Balthazar shrugged and slightly twisted lips upward. “I doubt that. She’s getting her daughter back uninjured with a cloned body. I doubt very seriously that she would be able to cope with this situation if she had stayed.” 

“Considering how big the donation the family made to hospital in Joanna’s name was,” Cass murmured as he rolled his shoulders,  
“I’m sure that if Mrs. Harvelle wouldn’t have been able to deal, Mr. Harvelle would have made sure she did.” 

“Nothing wrong with that,” Balthazar reasoned as he watched the screen. 

Cass made a little growling sound as he narrowed his eyes and wrinkled his nose. He wasn’t sure, but something about Mr. Harvelle not being in the hospital after the donation made him nervous. 

“Oh no, I know that look,” Balthazar turned from the screen and let out a long breath. It was just another one of Cass’ quirks, but this one made him nervous. “Don’t even think about looking into this family. You just got off probation for doing exactly that.  
Whatever you are thinking, just forget it. You are not going near the Harvelles again.”

“Can I at least Google him to make sure he’s not some chronic divorcer or has some illegimate children?” Cass asked with a  
wide, somewhat deranged grin. 

Balthazar shook his head and rolled his eyes before he motioned to one of the unused computers. “Looking up a hospital donor is well within the protocols but I don’t think you need to. Shurley wouldn’t have taken the money if there was anything in his past that would put St. PG’s at risk.” 

“Aren’t you the one that told me that it never hurts to Google a date?” Cass gave him a sly smile as he moved to the free computer. He entered the username and password into the screen then pulled up the hospital’s browser. 

Within seconds, he had typed Harvelle’s name into the search box and pulled up his social media page. “Says he’s only been married once and he’s got one kid.” he stated before he clicked off the page back to the search results. He went through several pages of links, checking to see if there was anything in the results that was unethical or illegal. “Okay so he’s clean. No other wives and no illegimate children.” 

“If I didn’t know better, I would say you were paranoid,” Balthazar remarked with a teasing tone, “Shurley is not that inept at his job.” 

“I didn’t say he was,” Cass smiled before he closed the browser then logged out of the computer. “I just didn’t like the fact that the father agreed to this, donated enough money to keep the unit running for several years, and still didn’t show up.” 

“Maybe he just didn’t want to be around when they pulled the plug. The mother is with the cloned body now. If he doesn’t show up after the download, I’ll look into him,” Balthazar promised. 

“Thanks,” Cass gave a small smile before he moved behind Balthazar and patted his shoulder. “And when you’re done with this one, we can get diner.” 

“It shouldn’t be much longer,” Balthazar added watching the monitor, “about 15 minutes at that most.” 

“And we need to wait until tomorrow before we can wake up the new vessel.” Cass knew the procedure well enough to know that it was best for the both family and for the patient. 

“You’re not doing that part, are you?” Balthazar asked as he typed something into the computer.  
Cass shook his head. “Raphael’s on that,” he answered with a shrug. “I really don’t like doing that part anyway. Too much family interaction for me and too much talking.” 

“Raphael doesn’t like taking memories and you don’t like the reacclimating part,” Balthazar rolled his eyes at the situation. “One day the two of you are going to have to deal with your quirks.” 

“So you want to work with Raphael on the reacclimation?” Cass knew that Balthazar hated Raph with a passion after that one time they worked together. Apparently Balthazar didn’t like the idea of being nearly set on fire after he complained about Raphael’s shampoo. 

“No, I don’t want to work with Raphael,” Balthazar snapped at him. “I would like to work on a reacclimation though. I haven’t had the practice in a while.” 

“Isn’t Anna supposed to be doing a reacclimation for the Bredon woman?” Cass questioned as he looked at the schedule. “You should see if she would be willing to let you on the case.” 

Balthazar nodded to himself before he turned to Cass. “You, Mr. ‘You Will Not Leave Me Ever’, are willing to loan me out to another transition?” He had to admit he liked the idea of working on a reacclimation with Anna. While Cass was a beautiful machine when it came to the epilogue stage of memory retrieval and movement, Anna was one of the most skilled at the acclimation stage. 

“This is not some fund raising hospital event,” Cass stuck his tongue out at him, “where I don’t know anyone and people want to touch me. This will be you in the acclimation room while I’m either at home sleeping or in the hospital doing paper work.”   
Balthazar narrowed his eyes, giving Cass a look of ‘are you kidding me?’. He wasn’t completely sure if this was a trick or some test of loyalty. 

“I’m not trying to trick you here,” Castiel responded with a snort and a curled lip. “Anna and I have an understanding. If one of her team members wants to join me, they can. And since you are my only team member, you are very much allowed to join others.” 

“As long as I don’t leave you at some fundraising event,” he smiled widely at his own joke before he leaned over and carefully  
wrapped his hand around the clothed wrist. “You do know that you can always say no when someone tries to touch you.” 

“And if I did that at a fund raiser, Shurley…” 

“Would understand,” Balthazar remarked with a dismissive wave of his hand, “there are a number of reasons why you can’t be touched all circling around the fact that it would trigger your skill. Castiel, you need to not worry so much about Chuck. He might be head of the hospital and likes to parade you around like a show pony but he does care about your well being. Why do you think he built this floor if it wasn’t for the fact that he wanted you? My father gave me a car when I finished school. Believe me, I would have rathered a place to work.” 

Castiel shrugged before he stood up again. “I’ll meet you downstairs. I need to check on something.” He left with that letting Balthazar continue his work as Cass went on his errand.


	5. Chapter Three:  Amygdala

Balthazar waved when he spotted Castiel come through the café door from his table in the corner. He watched as the younger man made his way over, dodging servers and other patrons until he flopped down in the chair opposite. “So you look like hell. What kind of errand would drain that much?”

“Have you been to my bank?” Castiel asked as he pulled the lunch menu from the little stand on the table. “I’m still trying to get that loan stuff straight.”

Balthazar’s eyes widened. “They’re still saying you didn’t pay that off? You have the note stating it’s been paid. You have all your receipts. What’s the problem?”

Castiel cocked his head to the side with an expression that said it all. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be going up there every other day and showing them what I have. They still say I owe them.”

“Just take them to court,” Balthazar replied in a way that suggested he’d said that before, “you have your paperwork and I’m sure if you threaten them, they’ll back off.”

“I’m not going to sue,” Castiel shook his head slightly, “that’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Not from where I stand,” Balthazar grumbled just as the waiter appeared to take their orders.

Balthazar tried to get Castiel to say more than just his order to the dashing man but his friend just glared at him before a firm kick to the shin silenced that. He chuckled to himself as the waiter disappeared. “You should at least try to say something more than ‘unsweetened, iced, tea, roasted chicken flat, no dressing, please’.”

“No,” Castiel leaned over the table so he could speak softly and Balthazar could still hear him over the background noise. “I am not in the mood to be dating.”

“I’m not talking about dating,” Balthazar clarified in a matched tone, “I’m talking about you getting laid. When is the last time you took someone home or stayed over at someone’s place? Seriously, go out, find someone, and have some fun. It wouldn’t kill you.”

“No,” Castiel repeated before he leaned back in his seat. “Sex involves touching. You know how the implants react to touch. And to block the implants, I have to choke down all those pills on an empty stomach, wait at least three hours for contact, avoid alcohol. I can’t even kiss without having to have a detailed time scale and plan. What kind of person would want a relationship that’s planned out to the last second?” The discussion was over and that was final.

“Cass-ie,” Balthazar sighed before he shook his head, “I’m trying to get you to enjoy your free time. Come out with me to a bar one night. You can’t just work and stay at home.”

“Yes I can,” Castiel answered with a smirk. “Now let’s talk about something else before our food gets here and we have to get back to work.”

“You’re no fun,” Balthazar crossed his arms across his chest but changed the subject. He asked if Castiel would be participating in the hospital’s annual cook-off again this year and Castiel answered he would.

They had just started discussing what dishes to make when their food arrived.

The discussion was tabled while they ate and afterwards, they split the bill before they returned to the hospital. They had just reported back to the floor when Balthazar brought up Castiel’s lack of a social life again. “You know you can turn off your implants every once and while. They don’t have to be on all the time. Or you could find your one person. You’re the one that said that every Transition needs one person they can completely relax around. How are you going to meet them if you don’t go out?”

“And turning them back on makes me sick. That’s why I leave them on.” Castiel shot Balthazar a harsh glare before a loud, blaring wail filled every part of the hospital and the wall-mounted emergency lights flashed in time.

“Well, that’s one way to end a conversation,” Cass shouted over the alarm as they made their way out of the lab and into the hallway.

“Do we know what’s going on?” A young, blonde, woman asked as Castiel rounded the corner.

“I don’t know, Rachel, but I hope it’s over soon,” Balthazar replied as they entered the patient hallway of the floor. “I’m sure this can’t be good for the patients.”

“Are we evacuating everyone?” Rachel asked one of the nurses at the main station.

“It’s a false alarm,” the nurse had a red phone receiver to her ear. “Apparently they can’t figure out how to shut it off downstairs.”

The staff all rolled their eyes at that and gave a little groan. The racket would last for a while and they had to tell the patients what was happening. Plus, the alarm immediately shut down the air handlers, so it was going to get hot very quickly. Most of the specialized equipment on the Transitions floor wouldn’t work so the staff would have to be moved to other floors until this was over.

“Who’s taking what floor?” A heavy-set, Latin man asked from the back of the crowd. This guy voiced what everyone else thought. If the Transitions floor was down for any length of time, the doctors and nurses on duty would be shifted to another part of the hospital.

“I call Cardio!” A high pitched voice called from the center, as a blonde head bobbed up from the crowd. “They don’t have a lot scheduled for today so there’s little chance of contact.”

“I’m with ICU!” Another exclamation declared quickly. “What? Most of the patients are heavily sedated or on vents. Do you know how many times I’ve been on that floor and didn’t worry about it? Every time!”

“I’ll take Peds!” A male voice called out as a guy with reddish brown hair raised his hand. “Kids are easy to distract and the parents don’t think about touching.”

“I’m with Ortho!” A bossy, feminine voice called out as a short, round, middle aged, woman raised her hand. “It’s looking at X-rays all day for me. Walk in the park.”

“Oncology!” A rough, deep, masculine voice declared in the front. “I am not going to any section where you can’t wear long sleeved scrubs.”

“None of us want to go there,” Rachel answered with a rueful glare. “I’m in Dietary.”

“Wait a minute!” Castiel snapped as he climbed up on a chair. “Are we really going to call dibs on the different departments in the hospital based on the chance of having skin to skin contact?” He looked at his colleagues like they had two heads. “We don’t even know if we are going to be moved, and if we are, we need to fall back on what we know.”

“Oh stuff it, Cass,” the heavy set, Latin man grumbled, “we don’t want to end up in the E.R. and we should pick areas where we can minimize the risk of casual contact. On this floor, we have a uniform. Long sleeves, layers, high collars, gloves, we all look the same. We are basically covered from chin to soles. Every other floor uses short sleeves, no layers, or collars. The Operating Room is the only place where you see more covering. I am not going to be asked ‘do you work here’ over and over again, because of what I’m wearing.”

“Fine then,” Castiel crossed his arms over his chest, “since no one else is going to take into consideration where we were stationed before getting here, I’ll take the E.R., so you don’t have to worry.”

Balthazar reached up and grabbed Castiel’s shoulder. “Are you sure that’s wise of you?”

“I spent a year down there before I had my implants,” he explained quietly, “I’ll be fine as long as I stay suited and gloved up.”

“Then I’m going with you,” Balthazar declared, jaw set. “You are not going to be in that unit without back up.”

“We’ll have to make sure the patients here are either on the way to discharge or are stable before any of the staff can be redirected,” the nurse behind the station ordered. “So none of this conversation is going to matter if you idiots don’t take care of your people up here.”

Castiel, still standing on the chair, turned to the nurse. “See, I knew there was a reason I liked you. Always thinking of interesting ways to insult us without actually insulting us.”

The crowd dispended at that, going about their business and getting to work. Several patients were far enough along in their process that they could be discharged and their families were quite relieved to be going home. The fire alarm still blared throughout the hospital making tempers run thin.

“When are they going to turn that damn thing off?” Balthazar asked as he walked down the stairs heading to the Emergency Room. “It’s been going on for over an hour.”

Castiel opened the stairwell door with the 1st floor sign on the side. “Hopefully it wouldn’t be so bad down here. And if the ER is crowded, we might not notice it.”  
“I’m pretty sure flashing lights and blaring sirens will be noticeable,” Balthazar quipped as he went through the door as well. He was surprised to see the ER was mostly empty, with only a few people waiting in the chairs. And as luck would have it, the alarm wasn’t as loud here, so that was a plus.

He went over to the desk to get some information while Castiel went to search for whoever was on call.

“Hey, Balthazar,” a chipper man with sandy brown hair and dark eyes greeted. “They sent you down here to help?”

“Cassie’s looking for Dr. Grant. I figured I could see what was happening here,” he explained before he came around the desk. “It doesn’t look so bad right now.”  
“We rerouted all the emergencies because of the alarm,” the man offered as he picked up a chart and handed it to Balthazar. “Most of these people are waiting for someone else. I think we have one waiting to be seen if you want to take it.”

Balthazar opened the board and read over the notes. “I can handle this,” he nodded.

“Thank you,” the nurse smiled before he called out the patient’s name.

“Well, that was interesting,” Balthazar found Castiel later in the day, after the alarm had finally been shut off and now the maintenance crew worked to get the air handlers back on. “I never had an alarm go off for so long and a riot not break out.”

“I’m sure the hospital would love to hear you say that,” Castiel stated while they walked down the hallway. “At least we didn’t have any major crisis while that was happening. Could you imagine trying to handle some critical case during all that? We couldn’t even get the Operating Rooms open because of the air handlers.”  
They were stuck in the ER on duty for another hour but by the looks of it, they weren’t going to see any more patients. The regular crew had it handled and with all the precautions, the extra layers, the head covering, Castiel had to take, they seemed more willing to let him ride out the last hour filling out charts and running to the pharmacy rather than have him in with a patient. Balthazar on the other hand, was the backup in case they got slammed at the last minute.

“I don’t think the ER is even open right now,” Castiel remarked not looking up from the chart in front of him, “I thought they reopened about an hour ago but from the looks of it, I would say we’re still closed.”

Balthazar rolled his shoulders before he stretched his right arm across his chest. He was still a little stiff from an awkward sleeping position the night before. “I think you’re right. I haven’t heard any clatter on the radio so I’m not sure what’s happening. I’m sure your father loved to deal with that.”

Just as they finished that thought, the radio sparked to life. An ambulance was on the way with a multiple gunshots victim. Balthazar hurried down the hallway and out the ER doors to meet the ambulance.

“Cass, we need another pair of hands in here,” Balthazar shouted as he burst through the ER doors with his hands over the man’s stomach.

Cass put the chart away before he grabbed a pair of Nitrile gloves and pulled them. With his hands covered by the gloves he hurried to Room 1. He realized it was very bad when he saw three doctors and several nurses rushing around the small space. He watched as a small monitor was clipped to the man’s index finger.

“What do we have?” He asked.

“Multiple gunshots to the abdomen, chest,” someone ran down what they knew, “nonresponsive in the field. Pulse is thread, blood pressure is dropping.”  
“What do you need?”

“Tube him,” one of the doctors ordered.

Cass grabbed the proper equipment and just as he stepped up to the patient, the man reached up, grabbed Castiel’s neck and sat up screaming. He dug his nails into the bare skin as he kicked and fought against the other staff. He looked Cass in the eyes and suddenly, an eerie green glow erupted from the man’s hand and travelled into Cass. He wouldn’t let him pull away and Cass screamed as the green vined its way up his body then reached his eyes.

“Let him go!” Someone tried to pry the man’s hand off but for someone with multiple injuries, he wasn’t fazed. He held on shouting no real words, until the green enveloped Castiel’s face completely.

“I’m sorry,” the guy whispered when the green finally stopped flowing from his hand into Cass. He let go and collapsed; his monitor flat lined. It wasn’t just his heart that stopped. His breathing stopped too.

“You and you, work on him,” one of the doctors ordered two of her colleagues as Balthazar raced to Cass’ side. “How is he?”

Balthazar pulled Castiel’s right eyelid up and saw that his pupil was completely dilated. “Shit!” He cursed as he pulled up the left and saw it was constricted. “Oh fuck! Call Transitions now!” He ordered hotly before he turned back to Cass. “Can you hear me? Cass?” He asked hoping to get some kind of reaction. “We need a stretcher!” He screamed before he checked Cass’ pulse and breathing.


	6. Chapter Four: Hippocampus

“What the hell happened?” Rachel asked as Cass was wheeled into the Transition room.

Shurley had ordered the entire floor restarted, ignoring protocols the second he heard what happened to Cass in the ER.

“Some guy grabbed him and apparently pushed his entire neural map into Castiel’s,” Balthazar responded as he pushed the stretcher into the lab.

“How could that happen?” Rachael asked as she helped Balthazar and the nurses lift Cass from the stretcher to the table. “The implants aren’t supposed to allow forcible movements!”

“Stop talking and work!’ Shurley shouted silencing the room. “We can find out the details later. Right now, just get that network out of there!” He didn’t get a response, but he wasn’t really expecting one either. This was one of their own in a situation no one could have prepared for and they were shooting from the hips and hoping for the best.

Rachel adjusted Castiel on the table before she placed a piece of paper tape on each of Castiel’s eyes to keep them shut during the download. She muttered a quick prayer, not sure if the download would work on an unconscious Transition before she hurried out the equipment room and into the lab.

Balthazar was at the computer table already but Rachel pushed him out the way, knowing he wasn’t in the right frame of mind for this. In any other situation, Balthazar was great, but this was the person he worked with side by side for the last 10 years. “Monitor those,” she told him, roughly pushing him into the chair at the other table. “Call out the readings at 30 seconds intervals.”

The machinery whirled to life, lights coming on, and a low hum filled the air as computer screens sparked with images of Castiel’s brain. Rachel typed something into the computer, shifting the view from the outer image to the inner pathways. An abnormally bright green sat over the pale blue and every person in the room gasped.

“Can you download with his brain like that?” Shurley asked, horrified at the idea of being able to do nothing. “Will the machine be able to distinguish the foreign pattern?”

“Use the filters,” Balthazar offered as he calibrated the machine and the pale blue pattern disappeared from the screen, leaving only the bright green. “That’s his.”

“Are you sure?” Both Rachel and Shurley asked at the same time. They couldn’t risk pulling the wrong pattern out of Castiel’s mind and if they were wrong, well they didn’t want to find out what might happen.

“Cass is the pale blue. I see it every time he operates,” Balthazar stated before pointing to the screen. “The guy, that’s the same color green I saw in the ER. It has to be his.”

“We’ll hold the pattern in the bluffer just in case,” Rachael decided that would be the best course of action for now. If they took the correct pattern out, it would be easy to transmit it to a memory bank. And if the pattern was Castiel’s, they wouldn’t lose it and they could download it into a vessel temporarily.

“Do it!” Shurley snapped, stressed out from all this back and forth. This back and forth was taking too long for him. Something needed to happen right now.

Rachel sighed heavily, hoping this would all work out. She typed a series of commands into the computer then watched as several different programs popped up their readings.

“Blood pressure is normal at 100/75 and heart rate is steady at 75,” Balthazar gave out the readings. His voice wasn’t as tight and worrisome as before, since it appeared that the second pathway hadn’t affected Castiel’s normal readings.

The process was very slow, taking over seven hours, with Balthazar carefully monitoring the heart rate and blood pressure and Rachel tediously working on the download. Finally, it was over and the green pattern was completely removed from the screen. The machine wound down and the lights dimmed.

Balthazar was in the room before the machine completely stopped, but no one had the nerve to tell him to get out. He removed the speculums from Castiel’s eyes and gently shook him.

“Castiel?” He whispered hoping the other was still in there.

“What happened?” Cass asked as he rubbed his dry eyes. “How did I get in here? What time is it?”

The collective sigh of relief lifted the tension in the room. Balthazar nodded to Rachel and Shurley before he helped Castiel off the table.  
“My head really hurts,” Castiel squinted against the lights and covered his eyes with his hand.

Balthazar helped steady Castiel into the lab and Shurley offered a chair. “There was an accident in the ER,” he began after he had Cass in the chair. “A patient grabbed you and somehow moved his neural net into you. We were able to remove it.”

“That explains the head ache,” he tipped his head forward and with his elbows propped up on the arm rest, he held his head in his hands. “Do we know about the patient?”

“We’re looking into that now,” Shurley offered while he stood off to the side and let Rachel and Balthazar look over Cass. “He was a John Doe when he entered the hospital.”

“Is he dead?” Castiel had trouble focusing on the conversation because the day’s event drained all of his energy. Just talking this much seemed like a Herculean feat.

“Time of death called at 6:25, Wednesday, January 15th,” Shurley answered again.

“Whoa,” Cass let out a slow breath realizing the man was now gone. He wasn’t completely sure how he felt at that moment - relieved, sad, or just numb - so he didn’t voice his thoughts.

“Can I go home?” He barely managed to form the words. He felt like he wanted to sleep for days.

“We need to observe you,” Rachel remarked while she shone a pen light in Castiel’s eyes. “At least for another 12 hours. Your vitals are good, but we just want to make sure all is well.”

“I want to go home,” Castiel pouted, without much strength behind the words, “sleep in my own bed.”

Balthazar placed his hands on Cass’s shoulders, rubbing his thumbs into the muscles. “Cassie, let them admit you for a few hours. I’ll stay if you want me to but you need to stay in the hospital, at least for tonight.”

Castiel glanced over to Chuck. “Since it was a work related accident, you have to stay. Sorry, my hands are tied.”

Cass sighed heavily before he nodded. “Fine, I’ll stay, but I don’t want to be bothered every five minutes.”

“I can handle those terms,” Chuck agreed easily before he called down for assistanc., “I’ll stay with you until you get settled in a room.”

Castiel nodded before he leaned over and placed his head against Balthazar’s shoulder. “Can you go to my apartment and get me some books? Just bring me anything.”

Balthazar nodded carefully so he wouldn’t shift Castiel around too much. “I’ll bring you some clothes and your slippers,” he added with a slight grin.

Castiel chuckled once before a young man with reddish brown hair came into the lab with a wheel chair.

“Time to go,” Balthazar remarked before he helped ease Cass into the chair.

About an hour later, Castiel was in a hospital bed and Chuck was in the chair at his side. They waited for Balthazar to return from Cass’s apartment. Nurses and a few doctors looked at the monitors every once in a while but, so far, his vitals were all normal. He complained about having his blood work drawn with every needle prick and he fought against the I.V. until finally Chuck just did it himself mumbling something that sounded a lot like ‘stubborn son’.

“You don’t have to stay, Dad,” Castiel offered with his head against the pillows, “I’m sure you have better things to do.”

“I’ll leave when Balthazar gets back,” Chuck replied as he set down his smart phone, “I don’t want to leave you alone right after an accident.”  
Castiel opened his mouth to respond only to have Balthazar walk into the room with an overnight bag over his shoulder.

“I brought you books, some movies and a portable player,” he explained when Castiel raised an eyebrow. He walked over to the bed and pulled out the player and several movies. “And I didn’t forget your clothes,” Balthazar reached into the bag and pulled out some neon purple, fuzzy slippers with monster claws at the toes, “and your slippers.”

“I need to get back,” Chuck explained before he patted Cass’ shoulder. “Let someone know if you need anything. I’ll stay updated.” With that, Chuck exited the room, with a few of the other staff behind him.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Balthazar admitted quietly, although he was still worried about his friend. “I didn’t know what happened down there and I wasn’t sure how to explain or what would happen.”

Castiel yawned, the events weighing on him. “I’m glad I’m okay, too,” he admitted.  
“You want me to leave so you can sleep?”

“You know I can’t rest in here,” Castiel grumbled as he tried to get comfortable. “Can you see if they would let me go home?”

“No!” Balthazar snapped. “I know you want to go home but that’s not an option right now.”

“Balthazar!”

“No arguing, Castiel,” Balthazar couldn’t believe that Cass would even think about going home right now. “You need to stay here until we know what happened.”

“Balthazar, please,” Castiel sighed as he looked over at his friend, “I just want to go home.”

Balthazar stepped up and leaned over Castiel’s bed before he brushed his hand over the other’s forehead. “I know you want to go home. I wouldn’t want to spend any more time than I have to in here. But this is for your own good, at least until we know for sure you’re okay. Now just rest, my friend. Just rest.”

Castiel nodded before his eyes drifted closed, and was asleep within seconds. Balthazar waited a few minutes just to make sure Castiel stayed asleep before he walked out of the room, turning the light off as he did.

When Balthazar returned to Castiel’s room, he found the man sitting up in bed reading some glossy fashion magazine that all the nurses were gaggling over. “You know you shouldn’t read the dribble. It will give you unrealistic ideas.” He made his way over to Castiel’s bed and shined a pen light into Cass’s eyes.

“Are we on the morning or the night shift?” Castiel asked as he stared at a spot behind Balthazar’s left ear. “So how do I look?”

“You appear to be fine,” Balthazar gave his reassurances before he held up one finger in front of his face in front of his nose, “You know the drill. Follow my finger.” He moved it up, down to the left then to the right to make sure he wasn’t impaired. “And so far, it looks like you’re coming out of this quite well. You’re not showing signs of any lingering effects but something like this hasn’t happened before. And I am working the morning shift. You are not discharged yet, so no work for you.”

“First time for everything,” Castiel smirked with a rueful chuckle. “And I’m the test subject. Let’s hope that after all of this, I can still do my job.”

“We’ll know more after your scans,” Balthazar explained, “but like I said, all the signs are positive. You’re responding well and I’m sure that your implants will be clear. We put you under as long as possible and while it wasn’t under the most perfect circumstances, I’m sure it will work out.”

“So when will I get out of here?” Castiel asked.

“A few more hours,” Balthazar smiled at the answer, “but only if you agree to spend the weekend at your father’s. He says he doesn’t like the idea of you staying in your apartment alone.”

Castiel sputtered at that. He was well past the age to need a babysitter and he had a roommate. It wasn’t like he would be alone. “I am not staying at Dad’s. I have my own place and in case he doesn’t remember, I have a roommate.”

“Who is on shift all weekend,” Balthazar parried before he made notes on Cass’ chart, “and every one has been told that unless you agree to stay with someone this weekend, you’re not to be discharged. Orders from Doctor Chuck Shurley himself.”

Castiel grumbled something about his father being a complete and total control freak, but didn’t make too much of a fuss. He just wanted to get out of the hospital. “Can you come over?” He asked Balthazar after a few minutes. “I can’t be cooped up with dad for the entire weekend by myself.”

“He didn’t say anything about you not having company,” Balthazar smirked knowing that while Cass and Chuck were family, they could only stand to be around one another in small doses.

“Okay, I’ll go,” Castiel nodded.

Balthazar nodded back before he patted Castiel’s shoulder. “I’ll go get your paperwork.”

Four hours later, after several check ins with various nurses and doctors, Doctor Castiel Novak was officially no longer a patient of St. PG’s and had been released into the care of his father. As Cass sat in the front passenger seat of his father’s car, he thought about what this weekend would be like. He imagined a lot of arguing, stress, and just plain boredom.

“Balthazar is coming over for dinner,” Chuck offered as he pulled out of the parking lot, “I thought you would like that.”  
“Thank you for inviting him,” Castiel returned.

Chuck shrugged before he stopped at a red light. “I figured you could use some company other than dear old dad.”

“Dad, you didn’t have to do that,” Castiel remarked as he looked out the window, “I wouldn’t have….”

“Scrabble is more fun with three or more players,” Chuck teased as the light turned green and he pulled out of the intersection.

Castiel let out one low chuckle before he rested his head against the seat. “At least the weekend won’t be boring.”

“Oh you know you love competitive Scrabble,” Chuck grinned.


	7. Chapter Five:  Neocortex

When Castiel stepped through the hospital doors on Monday, he was shocked to find himself immediately surrounded by coworkers asking what seemed to be a million questions. Some wanted an update on his condition and if he had an update on the guy. Some asked about what happened in the accident itself and a few wanted to know why he didn’t take the day off. He tried to answer what he could but questions where thrown from every direction and the voices overlapped more often than not.

“Break it up!” Doctor Uriel shouted when the noise got up to a quiet roar. “Back to your stations right now and let Doctor Novak get back to work.” He stood with his back to the admitting desk, his arms folded over his broad chest, and his dark brown eyes flared with aggravation.

Castiel was grateful to the man, because he never liked being the center of attention. “Thank you, Doctor Uriel,” he greeted the man as he went to clock in. He had no problem with him as long as he worked there. He kept to himself and didn’t take part in hospital politics or the rumor mill.

“No problem,” Uriel gave a slight smile before he shoved a chart at him, “I think you should read this before you head up to your floor.”

“Okay,” he said slowly as he took the chart and flipped it open. He read over the first few lines and his jaw dropped. “Is this for real?”

Uriel nodded with a stern look. “Apparently so. The military has been crawling all over the hospital since early this morning and from the looks of it, some high-up brass has been seen going into Dr. Shurley’s office.”

“So the John Doe was some kind of military personnel?” Castiel whispered, unable to wrap his head around that. The hospital had just been dropped into the middle of some scandal and he was a major player. This was not a good way to start the work day.

“I suggest you get out of here now,” Uriel advised looking around to see if he saw any uniforms, “because I know they want to talk to you about what happened and with the way they are digging around, I’m sure they aren’t going to let you out of their sights.”

Thank goodness, Cass hadn’t clocked in yet, because he handed the chart back to Uriel and rushed out the door as if the hounds of hell were on his heels.

“So some military men came to the lab today,” Balthazar explained to Cass over the phone, “they wanted to speak with you but since you weren’t there yet, I told them they would have to wait. They wanted to see the video and all the notes from your procedure. The hospital had to hand all that over, and they still want to talk to you.”

Castiel laid down in the center of the king sized bed in the hotel he stayed in for the night. He hadn’t gone home after the morning at the hospital and instead decided to just rent a room. At least he’d picked one of the more upscale ones so he didn’t have to worry much about bed bugs and the like. “Did they say how long they would be hanging around?” He questioned as he stared up at the ceiling.

“One of them said something about not leaving until they speak with you,” Balthazar answered with a heavy sigh, “and they are quite disturbed with the fact that Shurley deleted the pattern instead of downloading it to one of the memory banks.”

“He did what?” Castiel shot up at that. “Dad deleted the pattern out of the buffer? Why would he do that?”

“He said something about it not being important,” he explained softly, “and since you were unharmed, he wanted to get rid of the other one in case it caused trouble for the system.”

“Well I can’t blame him for that,” Castiel murmured before he leaned back against the pillows again, “but I have to wonder why they aren’t trying to track me down. You would think if it’s that important to canvas the hospital, they would have people searching for me in the city.”  
“I guess they figured they would find you at work so they aren’t bothering with a full scale search of the city.” Balthazar honestly had no idea why the military wasn’t out searching for Cass but he wasn’t going to ask questions.

The next day, Cass made his way to the Transitions floor only to be stopped by an armed guard and a team of people he didn’t know. “Okay, who are you?” He was smart enough to put his hands up in surrender just to make sure he didn’t get shot. “And why is the floor closed off?”  
“You need to go back downstairs, sir,” the guard ordered firmly, “no one is allowed on this floor.”

Cass nodded before he slowly turned around and hurried back to the elevator. He figured the fewer questions he asked, the less noise he made, the easier it would be for him to go unnoticed. At least now he knew there was a guard on the floor and as he waited for the elevator, he wanted to know what happened to the patients and the other doctors that typically worked the floor. At the sound of the doors sliding open, Castiel looked up and found himself face to face with a tall, lean man dressed in a pristine uniform.

The man stared at Cass’ face for one brief second before he shouted for the guard. All hell broke loose then, with people surrounding him, guns drawn, and a lot of shouting. He didn’t even try to resist, knowing that was just going to make things worse. He needed to stay calm and hope that someone explained to him, in detail, what was going on. He ended up on his knees, on the floor, with his hands behind his head and more than enough commotion.

“Does someone want to tell me what’s going on?” Castiel asked when one of the guards roughly pulled him to his feet. He stared at the uniformed man, knowing he had to be in charge.

“We need to talk,” the man replied evenly, without any sense of worry, “I believe you had an experience with one of our men.”

“Yeah nothing says, ‘we need to talk’ more than guards and guns drawn,” Cass snapped as the uniform escorted him onto the elevator. “You know, it’s called decency. You could have at least done without the guns. What happens if one of those got trigger happy and put a bullet in my brain?” He had no idea why he was speaking like this. He wasn’t normally this bold and while he did have some scraps with his supervisors at the hospital, he thought this being military his temper would have tapered.

The uniform shrugged while the elevator descended. “My men are well trained. They don’t have itchy fingers and they don’t get trigger happy.”

Castiel rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything else. Instead he leaned back against the railing with his hands at his sides. “Do you have a name at least? Because right now you’re uniform in my head and that just doesn’t sound like it would be a good way to hold a conversation.”  
“Why don’t we wait until we are somewhere a bit more private before we enter into some discussion,” uniform offered. “I’m sure you would prefer an office to an elevator for this.”

Castiel jerked his head up at that. Great, he was going to be tortured and uniform didn’t want any witnesses. Cass thought he could bolt the second the doors opened and he nearly did only to have the guy grab his arm and pull him back.

“No running off like you did yesterday,” the Uniform stated near his ear. “You and I are in need of some time together and I don’t like having my men run around and search.”

Cass’ first instinct was to shout ‘fuck you’, stomp the guy’s foot, and make a run for it but the tight grip on his upper arm and the fact that he was sure the uniform had blanketed the hospital exit, stayed him. He let out a heavy sigh before he looked down at the hand on his arm then back up. “You can let go now,” he snapped with a pouty glare. “I can walk.”

“Do not run,” Uniform warned before he eased his grip, but didn’t completely let go. “We’re going to the Chief of Staff’s office. I assume you know where that is.”

“Yes I know where it is,” Castiel replied with a snarl before he jerked out of the grip, “down this hallway, make a left, last door on the corridor.” He sarcastically answered before rolling his eyes. “And we are leaving the door open. I want someone to be able to hear me scream.” He started in that direction, then turned back when he noticed uniform wasn’t coming. “Are we having this little discussion in the hallway? Because that’s fine with me too. More witnesses if you do something to me.”

Now that threw the guy for a loop. He wasn’t expecting that much hostility and it showed. Normally a stern glare and a few barked orders and people jumped to get things done. However, this dark haired doctor didn’t respond like the rest.

“Sir, I can assure you, I did not come here with any ill intent,” uniform stated before he finally moved.

“No, you came here to put some guns in my face and wall off my floor,” Cass hissed as he made his way to Shurley’s office. “You made this hospital some kind of freak show and you don’t think this little stunt is going to bruise our reputation. You don’t care about the patients and I’m not sure what you did with the staff.”

“You are a pain in my ass,” uniform hissed once Castiel was in the office and found Chuck in his chair, a mug of hot tea in front of him on the desk. “Doctor Shurley, please tell this person to go along with this investigation.”

“He stuck several guns in my face! The floor is closed off.” Castiel retorted as he plunked down in the wing back chair. “And I haven’t seen another member of the Transitions Staff in the hospital. What did he do, kill them?”

“No!” Both men exclaimed quickly. “Doctor Novak, the staff has been moved to other floors during the duration of this little investigation,” Chuck added with a better sense of calm. “I can assure you, no member of the staff has been harmed.”

“How long will the floor be closed?” Castiel ground out through gritted teeth. Something about all this had him unsettled and his nerves on edge. “There were patients.”

“The few remaining patients were moved to other hospitals,” Chuck offered before motioned for the uniform man to sit. “This is General Victor Henricksen and he has been explaining to me about the patient that injured you.”

“I wasn’t injured,” Castiel stated with a sideways glance to the man. “My situation was handled very quickly and so far I haven’t had any side effects.”

General Henricksen shot Castiel a frustrated look before he gathered his considerable patience and decided to handle this. “Doctor Novak, I don’t know what you have been told, but I can assure you once again that the military is not here to shut down the Transitions unit. We do need to know about the man you encountered.”

Castiel looked over to Chuck before he turned back to the General. “I’m not talking about that unless you give me some information.”

“This isn’t a negotiation,” the General crossed his arms over his chest. “Believe me, I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me here. I would have rather spoken with you yesterday, run a few tests, then left with the pattern. Unfortunately, the pattern I was after no longer exists.”

“Well sucks to be you, then,” Castiel snarled feeling bile rise in his throat. “Look, what do you want to know because, really, I don’t remember much.”

Shurley cleared his throat before he took a sip of tea. “We will gladly hand over all records of that event.”

“We don’t need the records,” Henricksen stated before he leaned back in his chair. “We need Doctor Novak’s statement on the events as well as any information he can give us.”

“Once again, I don’t remember anything about what happened after he grabbed me,” Castiel rubbed his hand over his forehead, “I was in the E.R. when the man came in as a multiple gunshot victim. He grabbed me and then there was pain. After that, I’m in the Transition lab with the worse migraine ever and so tired that I could barely move. What else could you possibly need to know?”

“Have you experienced any strange dreams?” Henricksen asked calmly with his jaw set and his shoulders back. “Are you still feeling weak? Is the headache still there?”

“No,” Castiel curled his lip, “no strange dreams. The Chief of Staff admitted me right after it happened. When I was released, I stayed with family, since I was given the weekend to recover. I didn’t return to work until today. I was over the fatigue three days after the event and the headache solved itself after fluids.” He paused for several seconds before he shifted his focus to Chuck then back to the General. “And I want to know who that guy was, by the way. He was able to do things that weren’t possible. Person to person transfer isn’t possible. At least it’s not supposed to be; so the way I see it, that man was some kind of experiment.”

General Henricksen looked around the room and figured he could put a card or two on the table. He wouldn’t show his entire hand but he could give these people a scrap of information to shut them up.

“The man that you encountered,” he spoke with a sense of pride and regret, “was Chief Warrant Officer Dean Winchester. He was a good man that shouldn’t have died the way he did.”

“And the whole transferring into my brain thing?” Castiel asked with another sideways glance to the General. “How did that happen?”

“We don’t know,” Henricksen stated with a slight shake of his head. “We didn’t even know Winchester had that ability and we are not sure why that happened when he came into contact with you.”

“I was asking if he was an experiment,” Castiel clarified with a great deal of sarcasm. He sucked on his teeth. “Since you know, the military has been known to experiment on its people.”

“Castiel!” Chuck didn’t want Cass to push his luck with the General.

“He wasn’t an experiment,” the general he held up his hand interrupting, “Officer Winchester was a decorated veteran of the Navy. He served his country well and didn’t deserve to die that way.”

“Still doesn’t explain me to how he transferred his mind into mine,” Castiel grumbled but at least he had some information to go on. “And it doesn’t explain why you shut down the floor. Or how you knew about the situation in the first place. He came in as an unidentified John Doe that passed away due to his injuries. No one mentioned the transfer.”

The General shook his head before he motioned to Chuck. “When the local police sent out a request for information, our local recruitment office recognized the picture. We were contacted shortly after and we found out about the incident only after we got in contact with the hospital.”

Castiel didn’t believe that but he wasn’t going to argue. He realized that the quicker way out of this was to just agree with whatever these people said. He could go back and find their lies but right now, his focus was on getting the floor open and getting the military out of the hospital. “Do you know how he got shot?”

The General looked a bit mournful as he spoke. “Home invasion gone wrong from what we gathered. The local police found signs of a break in. They believe that Dean walked in on the robbery and got shot by the thief.”

“There’s no military base around here,” Castiel wasn’t sure why that made a difference but something in the back on his mind focused on that fact.

“Officer Winchester lived off base,” Henricksen replied.

“Are we done?” Castiel asked suddenly. “I would like to get to work.”

“Yes, sir,” the General stood up and placed a slight smile on his face, “we are done. Thank you both for your time.”

Castiel waited until the General left the office before he turned to Chuck. “That was strange,” he whispered. “I don’t trust this.”

“I don’t either,” Chuck agreed about the recent development. “Yesterday the hospital was crawling with these people and today there is very little presence aside from the Transitions ward.”

General Henricksen walked out of the hospital several hours later without Winchester’s neural pattern. He slid into an unknown black SUV with dark tinted windows. He glanced at a second man that sat in the back of the vehicle. “His pattern is completely gone. It wasn’t downloaded into a public memory bank and was not placed in another vessel. It’s not in the machine either. Apparently it was destroyed.” He spoke to a balding man with a black leather brief case on his lap.

The bald man opened up his brief case and took out of picture of Dean. He placed the color photo on Henricksen’s lap then stared him dead in the eyes. “We need that pattern. We need what Winchester had in his head.”

“Apparently his pattern is not in the doctor’s head either,” Victor added with a sigh, “when contact was made, the hospital moved immediately. According to their records and the security footage, Doctor Novak was in the machine within an hour of contact.”

“You do have a tail on this Novak person?” The bald man asked. “I doubt it was a coincidence that Dean touched him.”  
“His apartment and work have surveillance teams in position,” the General replied with a nod, “and I have assigned round the clock individual surveillance as well. He wouldn’t be able to sneeze without us knowing about it.”

The bald man nodded. “Good. We need to know if he shows any signs. Keep the unit shut down until we know for sure.” He reached for the door handle and opened the door. “I’ll be in touch.” He slid over the seat, out the car, then walked down the sidewalk.

Henricksen looked over the photo of Dean Winchester in his uniform for a few moments before he folded the picture in half and placed it in his pocket. He wasn’t sure what was happening here but with the death of Dean, it seemed that some very important people wanted to make sure the death was investigated by the military brass.


	8. Chapter Six: Lateral Ventricles

The next day, Cass ended up back in the Administrative Office. General Henricksen wanted to speak with him again and this time he didn’t hold his tongue. He was ready for this to be over.

“Look, I told you already,” he snapped when he got sight of the man, “I’m not having any bad dreams and I’m not having any side effects. Now open up the damn floor so I can do my job.”

Victor looked down his nose at the doctor but kept his face neutral. He could put up with this kind of attitude from a civilian until his mission was complete. The General needed this to be over and for that he need his cooperation. “Let our people run a few tests on you then. Blood work, brain scan, a routine physical and if the tests turn out fine, we’ll leave.”

Castiel huffed out a disgusted breath before he shot the general an evil eye. “So that’s what you wanted? Bring me to one of your labs then turn me into some kind of experiment?” he leaned back against chair with an annoyed look on his face. Now, he really didn’t trust this man at all.

“We can do the tests here,” Victor grounded out through gritted teeth and a cletched jaw, “if the hospital agrees to allow our doctors in, the tests can be performed on site and without you having to travel.”

“Fine, get them here,” Castiel hissed, “I want you out of here by the end of the week. You have taken up enough of our time and you disrupted our services.”

“I’ll have them here as soon as possible,” Victor informed the Doctor.

The military team arrived the next day. A twelve person team of specialists that Castiel never heard of before but apparently heard of St. PGs and the unusual unit. Four women and eight men each with a number of years in their field under their belts introduced themselves and tried to take the edge off the situation.

“I don’t need half of these tests,” Castiel growled at Henricksen as he looked over the list. “I’m not doing them.”

“If you want to get back to work,” the General warned, “you will undergo whatever we say. This isn’t a discussion, Doctor Novak.”

Castiel was poked and prodded for a few hours while the doctors took blood, bone marrow, saliva, skin, hair, and nail samples and did a liver biopsy. He found himself relaxing during most of the procedures because the doctors were much more cordial than the General and they enjoyed their work. Plus they were just as interested in learning about the moving memory process as a whole than they were in the incident that brought them here. Castiel especially liked the dermalogist, a woman about his age, with wide set, dark green eyes, pale, almost porcelain like skin, and a full head of curly red hair. She reminded Cass of the main character in the movie Brave and he asked her if she had ever shot an arrow.

“I prefer an M-9 pistol,” the doctor, Pamela Barnes, answered with a slight upturn of the corners of her mouth, “but I was in the archery club at my school. Of course that was years before the movie came out. My husband decided it would be fun to dress up as a bear for Halloween. Guess who was the princess?”

“Sounds like it wasn’t fun for you,” Castiel admitted as he sat on the edge of the table, letting the doctor do her work.

Doctor Barnes laughed loudly, a smooth, light, laugh that was full of mirth as she scraped the back of Castiel’s neck to get a sample. “No, I did have fun,” she admitted as she secured the sample. “My husband didn’t though. I don’t think he realized just how hot and heavy his costume would be. He whined the entire night about how difficult to see and he couldn’t use the bathroom easily.”

Of course, not all the tests were so smooth, the bone marrow sample involved a rather large needle being stuck into his back which left him sore and aching. At least that’s how he felt after the epidural wore off. He couldn’t be put under general anesthia thanks to a risk to his implants and he wasn’t about to have a long needle shoved forcefully into his hip without pain relief. Plus, that doctor was a bit of jerk, not talking, not explaining what she did as she went along but Castiel kept his mouth shut and just waited for it to be over. His liver biopsy had been done at the same time.

The other tests, non-invasive and quick, went by in a blur and before he knew it, they were done. The next days, the doctors explained that the results were the same as before. The brain scan again showed no signs of an abnormality in the neural pattern so it was decided that Cass had no lingering side effects from the incident and no trace of Dean Winchester remained in the Transition’s mind. The team was gone the day after that, taking most of the military presence with them.

General Henricksen opened the Transition floor a few hours before he left, removing the last of the guards. He reminded Chuck to inform him of any kind of updates and gave a short speech about how he was grateful for all the understanding.

The hospital fell back into its routine - much to the staff’s relief - and by the end of the week, it seemed that most forgot about the incident, the military presence, and the disruption of services. The doctors saw their patients, surgeries went along as scheduled. Joanna returned for her routine follow up visit with a beaming mother and an overjoyed father. The family thanked Cass for all his hard work and Castiel placed Joanna in his ‘successful procedure’ column. Dr. Shurley continued his work and the lawyers kept everyone on the correct side of the legal issues. It was almost as if the Dean Winchester incident never happened at all.

Castiel was in the Transitions lab discussing a case with Balthazar when a thought occurred to him.

“Can you tell me something?” Castiel asked when the tests were finished. “What did it look like? The two patterns?”

Balthazar took a long breath before he slowly let it out. He hadn’t thought Cass would ask something like that so quickly but he didn’t want to simply ignore the question. He thought about bringing up the visuals. “Do you really want to know?” He asked as he turned toward the computer. “I can show you.”

“Yeah I think I want to know,” he answered with a glance of his own to the computers.

“Okay,” he walked over to the computer and turned it on. He clicked on a few icons before the imagining appeared.

“Pretty color,” Cass laughed nervously, “he would have been a great subject under the ideal circumstances.”

“I don’t know,” Balthazar shrugged before he rolled his chair closer to the other man. “I think he’s a bastard for doing that to you.”

Cass looked at the screen taking in the sight of the bright green pattern overlaying his own. He knew he would have been screwed if the team hadn’t worked so hard. With a strong pattern like that, it would have been possible for the green to overtake the blue. He reached out and rubbed his fingers over the back of Balthazar’s hand. “I’m glad you did what you did. How long did it take?”

“A little over seven hours from start to finish,” Balthazar pointing at the screen. “We had to filter since his pattern was over yours. The system had to identify both patterns, then separate them and download the foreign. And since it was over your entire brain and not isolated one area, it took longer.”

Castiel finally went back on duty after several weeks of being stuck at a desk doing paperwork. He was so happy to be back in rotation that he almost kissed Balthazar when his friend informed him. He needed a case, and as luck would have it, there was one that very day.  
Charlie Bradbury had been brought into the hospital after a long battle with cancer. Her doctors had given her weeks to live and Charlie decided to take matters into her own hands. Her body might be dying, but her mind was still sharp and she wanted to see if she would be a candidate for this memory movement procedure she had been hearing about on the news. She didn’t have anything to lose, so why not try?

“She’s a good, viable candidate,” Balthazar stated as he read over Charlie’s chart. “The cancer hasn’t reached her brain. She passed all the psychological tests with flying colors. Her family is very supportive. Her vessel’s being built as we speak and all we need is the memories. She would be an easy case for you, Cassie.”

Castiel took the chart, looked over all the notes and documents before he nodded. “No one else wanted to transition her?” He asked as he closed the chart and slid it back over to Balthazar.

Balthazar grinned before he answered. “No one else is available right now. Ms. Bradbury would like this done today if possible and everyone is on a case.”

“Sounds like the perfect time for me to get to work,” Castiel grinned before he scribbled down his name on the white board next to Charlie Bradbury.

An hour later, Castiel sat in a chair next to Charlie’s bedside listening to her chat about this role-playing game she liked. She smiled at Castiel when she mentioned that in part of the game, a player could imprint themselves onto another person’s mind and take over the character.

“We don’t imprint,” Castiel started only to have Charlie hold up her hand.

“Don’t ruin my moment,” she teased before she bopped her head. “Let me think I’m a level 80 wizard that just took over the Dragon of All Time and now controls the space time continuum.”

“Unfortunately, we don’t offer dragon units,” Balthazar, who had run the primary tests on Charlie, answered with a wide grin, “but the one we are building for you will be pretty nice as well. It’ll be your body only cancer free and with all the bells and whistles you came with.”

Charlie giggled at that, refusing to let her illness get her down. She was about to get a new lease on life thanks to these people and a new procedure. “Doctor Balthazar couldn’t tell me how long the process would take. Can you?” She asked Castiel.

“Taking memories only takes about five to ten minutes, depending on the brain,” Castiel explained with ease. “The download time depends on the machine and it’s the same for the upload.”

“So when I wake up again, it’ll be like I took a nap?” Charlie asked as she prepped for the procedure.

“That’s what I hear,” Castiel answered before he glanced over to Balthazar. They had a bit of time before Charlie’s unit would be ready. “And there’s another team there when you wake up.”

“I met Dr. Milton,” Charlie explained, “She’s my reacclimation person.”

“She’s very good,” Balthazar offered with a nod. “You’re in good hands.”

“So when do we get this show on the road?” Charlie giggled with uncontained excitement.

“We’re waiting for the anesthesiologist,” Balthazar reported with a casual glance at the clock. “The patient should be asleep when the movement starts.”

“Cool,” Charlie wasn’t that bothered with waiting. She figured if she was done with the cancer and the treatments for the rest of her life, she could wait a few more hours.

It was about an hour later when a woman came into Charlie’s room and explained that she was the anesthesiologist. From there, she prepped her patient, had Charlie count backwards from one hundred as she administered the sleeping drugs. She got to ninety five before she was out completely and Castiel could do his job.

Castiel slid off his glove before he took Charlie’s hand. He focused on his neural pathways and waited for the familiar rush but it never came. He tried to force it but nothing happened. “Balthazar, call for back up. I’m blocked.”


	9. Chapter Seven: Basal ganglia

Rachel ended up moving Charlie’s memories while Castiel and Balthazar tried to figure out what happened.

“It could be you’re out of alignment,” Balthazar suggested as they ran through a list of possibilities. “That’s normally why a Transition gets blocked.”

“We checked that,” Castiel groaned pinching the bridge of his nose. “My implants are in working order.”

“Maybe you haven’t completely recovered from the incident?” Balthazar shrugged unsure of how that suggestion would go over.

“I’ve been on desk duty for weeks,” Castiel leaned back in his chair and sighed. He didn’t need this right now. He just wanted to get back to work and do his job. “I don’t see how that could...”

“Cass,” Balthazar interrupted, “no one has ever had an entire neural net forced over theirs. This is uncharted territory and it drained you more than you know.”

“What do you suggest?” Castiel asked before he looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t want to go back on desk duty without knowing how long it’ll last.”

“You might have to,” Balthazar didn’t like the idea either but he wanted his friend better, “or maybe you should stay away from the hospital all together and get out of the city for a while. Maybe go up to the cabin and stay the weekend. That tends to make you better.”

“That is true,” Castiel mumbled as he thought about it. “And I have plenty of vacation built up. Not like I don’t have the time.”

“Talk to Chuck and see what he says,” Balthazar suggested.

And that’s how Castiel ended up at his family’s cabin in the wilderness of Maine for a peaceful weekend away. 

Castiel scanned the sandy desert slowly, carefully searching for any signs of movement. He was on guard with a heavy gun in his hands, watching for something. The sun beat down from above, baking everything in sight with its harsh rays. The air was thin, yet heavy with tension. Something ominous was about to happen. Castiel stepped to the left only to find himself being thrown to the ground by some unknown force while a loud, thunderous boom sent sand, dust, metal, and bodies up into the air. The breath was forced from his lungs and fire danced above him. 

Gunfire all around him. People screaming, running, shouting, his ears ringing from the after effects of the blast and he couldn’t make himself move. Something pinned him to the ground and then he felt another explosion and more chaos. A shadow moved in front of him and when he went to look up, the sun blinded him. A gun pointed at his head. He was going to die and then…

Castiel woke up with a start, breathing swallow and rapid, heart racing, and a thin sheen of sweat over his skin. It took him a moment to orient himself, remembering he was in a comfortable, cozy bed in a small cottage in Maine, not some desert hell hole. No explosions, no guns, no chaos, just the stillness of the night in the middle of a quiet weekend. It was all a nightmare and he was safe. He eased himself out of bed trying to figure out why he had such a vivid dream. As he padded into the bathroom, he thought about how he never visited a desert and he hadn’t watched a movie similair to what he experienced. He needed another bath to erase the grimey feeling that clung to his skin.

Castiel turned on the hot water and let the bath tub fill as he brushed his teeth again. Maybe one of the many books he read recently had a desert ambush scene, but he couldn’t recall off hand. He rinsed out his mouth and tapped the toothbrush against the side of the sink getting rid of the excess. When the bath was half way full, he turned off the hot water and ran some cold until the tub was nearly full. He stepped into the tub and sank down into the perfect temperature before he turned off the taps and leaned back against the brim. 

After he bathed, his skin felt tingly and clean, the remnants of the nightmare gone from his head and when he eased himself back into bed, dry and smelling of earthy soap, his eyes dropped close immediately, and he spent the rest of the night in a dreamless, peaceful sleep.

Castiel woke up slowly, his muscles warm and relaxed, still heavy with sleep and a bit of a heady moan. His eyes opened peacefully and for a minute, he just laid in bed, under those incredibly soft covers, and looked up at his ceiling. He narrowed his eyes after a few seconds, wrinkling his nose and tried to remember. He knew he dreamed something last night but what was it? The dream, he couldn’t remember anything of the dream but he knew he should. There was something, something harsh, something desperate, but he couldn’t find even a tendril of it anywhere. He tried to think, tried to recall but all he got was a blank slate. Then his face relaxed and all thoughts about last night vanished from his mind as the comfort of a warm bed, soft sheets, and the morning sun filled him.

He laid there, content, before he stretched out his arms and spread his legs, sprawling out on the bed. He closed his eyes for a moment, then bit his bottom lip as an internal heat hit him. Castiel bent his elbow, letting his fingertips ghost over his shoulder. He eased his hand slowly over his chest, enjoying the feeling of the slight friction of skin on skin. His fingertips traced over his left nipple several times before the skin contracted and hardened. He pinched the sensitive skin a few times before he rolled the tip in between his fingers. He moaned then, letting his head tilt back against the pillows. He wanted this; it had been too long since his last activity and now he was making up for lost time.

His hand slid down lower then, feeling the muscles of his stomach and the dip of his belly button before his fingers went lower still. Castiel groaned when his fingers brushed against the hard flesh at the junction of his hips. He moved his hand up and down from the base to the tip, stroking with the perfect amount of pressure. His hips moved then, starting a reciprocating motion that created a glorious friction. His mouth fell open and he breathed low, and raspy, and then swallowed. Castiel continued to stroke himself under the covers until finally his muscles tensed, his breathing and heart stopped for a split second, and then he felt his fluids over his hand.

He let out a satisfied, contented purr before he curled up under the covers again. He was far too comfortable to bother with cleaning himself. Even though he’d slept soundly, Castiel’s eyes grew heavy before they closed completely and he fell asleep.

“How did you sleep?” Castiel mumbled as he worked himself free of the blankets. The early morning sun crept into the room and bathed the space in golden light. He surveyed the room, taking in the sight of the graffiti mural that ran up the length of the ceiling. It was an amazing artwork, a woman’s face half cast in a pale pink light, with her chin tilted up, eyes closed, metallic blue skin, a sharp nose, the detail in the eyelashes against the skin, a mass of pitch black hair flowing behind her face, on one of the most detailed and colorful mandalas.

He heard a man’s chuckle from the side of the room and found himself blushing when his eyes met his. The man was gorgeous, with a set of deep green eyes the color of old emeralds. His light brown hair cut was close on the side, but just long enough to run one’s fingers through on the top. He was nude, holding an 11 by 8 canvas in his lap, drawing with charcoal and chalk pastel. Castiel blushed again as his eyes traveled down, taking in the chiseled sharpness of his jaw, the wide expanse of his muscular shoulders then the defined chest and torso before the canvas blocked his hips and upper thighs.

“You know I slept fine,” the man answered with a hint of a Texas accent. “You were in my bed.” There was a wisp of a smile on the man’s face before he placed the canvas on the floor. “And we did things that were sinful,” he growled lustfully while he crossed the small space and flopped down next to Castiel on the bed.

Castiel was just about to protest when the man reached around the back of his head and smashed their lips together. The kiss was intense, passionate and fierce, almost as if the artist tried to drink in his essence. “I missed you.” The whisper was so soft and light that if he hadn’t felt the words against his mouth, he might have missed them.

“I’m right here,” he replied in the same low whisper while the blanket slid in between them. His hands came up to the artist’s shoulders as their lips met again. 

“I love you.” The declaration came just as Castiel opened his eyes and found himself tangled up in the bed sheets.

He looked around trying to understand how and why he would have a dream like that. Castiel never met a man like that in his life and he hadn’t watched a movie or read a book with an artist. If he had, he would have been able to write the dream off as an after effect of entertainment. He sat up slowly, untangling his limbs as he did so, before he kicked back the covers. He stretched his arms then slowly slid out of bed. Castiel stood up, walked over to the picture window, and looked out over the lake. He smiled at the calm, clear water and knew how he would spend his day. He hadn’t been canoeing in a while and the weather was perfect.

Castiel spent the rest of the day on the lake and by the time the sun dropped below the horizon and the sky darkened, he had forgotten about the passionate dream. He had one more night at the cabin before he returned to the city in the morning. He’d enjoyed his time away from work much more than he’d thought he would. He believed that after all that had happened in the last few weeks, perhaps the brief time away was just what he needed to feel right again. He made himself a late dinner and cleaned up before he went into the bedroom. He went through the usual night routine - shower, teeth brushed, clean boxers, and pajamas - and Castiel was ready for bed. He slid under the covers and drifted off to sleep.

Castiel couldn’t feel his arms or legs and it was hard to breathe. He struggled for every breath hearing raspy gasps as he tried to move air through his lungs. Gunfire surrounded him; shots hit the sand next to him, sending the grains up into the air. His eyes burned from the sand and sun. His heart raced in his chest so rapidly that he thought it might stop at any moment. A man stood over Castiel, the sun at Cass back making it impossible for him to make out his face. The man pointed a gun at Castiel’s head while Cass was pinned under something. He tasted blood in his mouth and when he tried to talk, only gurgling noises came out. He watched as the man’s finger tightened on the trigger  
.  
Castiel’s eyes popped open and he jerked awake on the couch. He kicked at the blanket that wrapped around his feet, trying to break free. His legs felt trapped now, like they were in the nightmare. He looked around, unsure of how he ended up in the living room. He remembered falling asleep in the bed and he didn’t remember getting up for any reason. How the hell did he end up on the couch? He tried to focus on the nightmare only to have every wisp of it evaporate when he reached for it. Soon it was gone completely, easily forgotten like it was never there in the first place.

He glanced at the clock on the wall and realized he needed to get up, pack his things, and get on the road if he wanted to be in the city by midmorning. He stood up slowly, padded into the bedroom before he pulled his weekend trip bag out from under the bed where he had stashed it when he first arrived. He pulled out the last pair of clean jeans he packed and a well worn, soft cotton, gray t shirt with the words ‘St. PG’s Annual Cook Off’ printed in white across the chest, before he changed out of the bed clothes into his travel clothes.

Castiel moved around the cabin, making sure he packed up his things to take them back to the city. He didn’t want to leave something behind in case he couldn’t get back here soon. Once he walked through every room twice and checked to make sure he had his stuff, he zipped up his bag, locked up, and left.

It was a three hour drive from the cabin to the city and once Castiel hit the open road, he turned on the radio instead of listening to an audiobook. He found a classic rock station and smiled as Carry On My Wayward Son filled the car. He pulled into the parking garage for his building just after 10 a.m. and found himself alone in his apartment a few minutes. His roommate wouldn’t be home for another few hours and Castiel didn’t have a shift today. 

Castiel glanced around the space trying to figure out if his roommate, his younger cousin – Alfie, had a wild party or not. The beige microfiber couch didn’t look like it had been moved from the center of the living room and the glass topped coffee table was still in front of it. The entertainment center was still had all the dvds and cds the pair had collected over the years lined up in alphabetically order. The tv still hung on the wall.

The kitchen was clean and tidy with no dishes in the sink or cups in the draining board. There wasn’t shards of broken glass under the stove or by the refridgator. None of the cabinents looked like they had been rifled through and nothing appeared to be broken.

He called Balthazar to let his friend know he made it back safe and would see the other doctor in the morning. Cass called his dad to let him know he was back in town and would be back at the hospital. Before Chuck could start on how Castiel should stay home for another day, Cass hung up and settled down on the couch. He picked up the tv remote and flipped through the channels until he found Doctor Sexy M.D. He couldn’t figure out why he wanted to watch this dribble considering he was a doctor himself and he hated this, but something inside him made him put down the remote and watch the marathon.

He managed to sit through four episodes before he got bored, turned off the tv, and opened his laptop that he always left on the coffee table. He needed to check his email anyway. Cass paused at the silence for a moment before he picked up the remote for Alfie’s home stereo system and hit the button. The music, some new indie rock band that Castiel couldn’t place, flowed through the apartment, filling the place before he went back to the computer.

He logged into his account, deleted the spam and the mailers, then clicked through the rest. He replied to Anna’s invitation to Thursday’s lunch before he signed out. With the emails out of the way, Castiel visited a few of his routine sites, checking for breaking news before his fingers typed www.bustyasianbeauties.com and he hit the ‘enter’ key. He looked at the main page with a slight smirk before he blinked twice then his eyes went wide and he quickly closed out of his browser. Why was he on a porn site? He never went on sites like that.  
He closed the computer before he stood up and stretched. He needed something to eat, so he walked into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, found it empty, then tried the pantry. Nothing looked desirable so he decided to head out to grab something. He walked down to the little burger joint at the corner, a place that he normally didn’t go but today he just wanted something quick. Castiel stepped into the quaint shop and realized he should have come here long before now. 

He gave his order to the teenager dressed like a 1950’s soda hop that worked the register and paid. When his order was called, Castiel gathered his take out then jogged back to his apartment. He was at the table, half of the burger already eaten when he heard a key jingle in the door lock. Castiel wrapped the rest of his food up before he stood. His roommate was back from his shift.

“Hey, Castiel,” the young blonde with slate blue eyes greeted after he opened the door, “I didn’t think you would be back until tonight. What time did you get in?”

“A little after ten this morning,” Cass answered as he got up from the table. “How was work?”

“Same old, same old,” the man replied as he shut the door, “everyone’s been asking about you though.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. He did not need to be a part of the running gossip column. “What did you tell them, Alfie?”

“That you left for the weekend and I didn’t know where you went?” Alfie answered although his voice had a slight lilt on the last word, making it seem very much like a question.

“Did you eat?” Castiel held up the wrapped portion of his burger. “I can’t eat all of it and I don’t want it to go to waste.”

“I had dinner with the new nurse in Ortho,” Alfie answered with a bright blush, a wide grin, and his chin tucked close to his neck. “She’s nice, smart, and funny. She’s got sass and she’s coming over Thursday to play cards.”

Castiel let out a long breath, knowing that Alfie was about to lose his shirt at poker come Thursday. He could tell the young man had a crush on this girl already and knew this would be fun to watch.

“Don’t let her win too many hands,” he offered before he picked up his food and moved to the fridge. At least he had lunch for tomorrow, he told himself, as he put the leftovers in fridge.

“I’m going to get a shower if you don’t mind,” Alfie explained as he shuffled off toward his room. “Glad you’re back. It’s nice to have someone else around here.” He smiled again before he disappeared into his room.


	10. Chapter Eight:  Diencephalon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the fiction gets racy. Really racy.

“You’re amazing,” the artist moaned into Castiel’s ear as a firm hand wrapped itself around his cock and slowly pumped up and down, “so responsive, so beautiful.”

“Don’t stop,” Castiel groaned, his head thrown back against the pillows, legs spread wide to give the artist better access. “Please don’t stop.”

“Don’t plan on it, Cass,” the artist teased before he circled one finger around the sensitive rim of muscles in between Castiel’s cheeks. “I plan on having you all night and day.” With that, he slowly slid a slick finger into the other man.

Castiel’s hips arched off the bed as he panted hotly. He wanted this so badly. The sensations running through his body were intense, perfect moments meant to give only pleasure. “Please, more,” he begged.

“Anything for you, baby,” the artist chuckled before he added a second finger working the muscles loose. The artist leaned forward and licked the head of Castiel’s cock. “You taste so good,” he growled before he added a third finger.

“Fuck me,” Castiel moaned as he pushed his hips down on the artist’s fingers. “Please.”

“As you wish,” the artist slowly slid his fingers out of Castiel. He placed both hands on Castiel’s hips before he eased the other man onto his bent knees. The artist reached in between them, took hold of his own cock, then lined up his hard length with Castiel’s hole. “You ready, Cass?” The artist purred before he eased himself into the other man.

Castiel gasped at the feeling of this beautiful man inside him, filling him up so nicely, making him feel wanted and desired. It had been too long since he had been with someone and this was perfect.

“How you doing, Cass?” The artist ran his hands over Castiel’s thighs before he slid them under the doctor’s back then lifted him up and pressed their chests together. “You look blessed out, baby.”

“Why do you feel so good inside me?” Cass questioned as he brought his arms around the artist’s shoulders and hugged him tight. “How can this be so perfect?” He whispered before he pressed their lips together. His breath hitched as the artist rolled his hips forward then backward. “Yes, yes,” he moaned in between kisses.

The sex seemed to last for hours until Castiel came. His muscles tightened, his heart seemed to stop, and in that moment, he understood why the French called it ‘la petite mort’ as he slumped against the broad, muscular chest of his lover. He felt the artist ease him back onto the bed before the other man slipped out of him.

“Don’t go,” Castiel mumbled as he tried to reach for the other man, “don’t leave.”

The artist smiled before he leaned over and kissed Castiel’s lips again. “Not going to leave you, Cass. I’m going to draw you just like that,” he explained before he slowly got out of bed then walked over to the canvas set on the easel. He picked up a charcoal pencil before he grabbed the canvas then walked back over to the bed. “Stay like that for me,” he instructed sweetly before he propped the canvas on his thighs and started drawing.

“Show me when you’re done?” Castiel mumbled feeling weightless and sleepy.

The artist nodded before he rubbed his hand over Castiel’s belly. “Of course. Now just relax.”

“What are you doing?” Castiel asked as he sucked in a sensual breath when the artist’s finger petted his belly. “I’m not going to stay still if you keep touching me like that.”

“Making sure you stay nice and comfortable,” the artist replied as he continued to smooth his hand over Castiel’s torso while he used the other to sketch. “You look so good like that. Sorta blitzed out like you just had the best night of your life following the best day ever.” 

Castiel woke up to find himself still in his clothes, on top of his bed covers, with a raging hard on, and the feeling of phantom hands touched his arms. He moved his arm and his fingers touched a book left open at his side. Castiel picked up the open book, looked at the title - Madame Bovary - and knew exactly why he had such a sensual dream. He got up then, needed another shower.

He admitted as he pulled off his clothes that he missed his queen-sized bed during his time away. He missed the cool, soft, faded gray, jersey sheets, the stack of five pillows, and the carved wooden posts of his bed and the ornate, raw iron design of the headboard. At the cabin, he didn’t have the sleek, 6 drawer, wooden dresser, with nickel handles and natural finish that ran along the length of the far wall or the matching floor to ceiling book shelf jammed back with medical text books, classic literature, and a few magazines that was to the left of the bed. The cabin also didn’t have the peacock blue walls or the ecru white ceiling which Castiel hated but the building super wouldn’t let him repaint. He sighed to himself then went about gathering up another set of night clothes before he padded into the other room.

Castiel stood in the bathroom brushing his teeth before he got into the shower when he thought he heard someone ask him if he felt better. He looked around, thinking it might have been Alfie, but he wasn’t there. He rinsed out his mouth and off his toothbrush and went into the living room to see if maybe he left the radio or the computer on. He turned off his laptop which had been open with a movie playing. He figured that’s where the words came from and went back into the bathroom for his shower.

He fell into bed after a long, hot soak and curled up under the covers. He closed his eyes and drifted off the sleep.

“We should do this again,” the artist stated as he tossed a gray hoodie on over his bare chest. He sat on the edge of the bed with ‘just been fucked’ hair and his back to Castiel. He pulled on a pair of black sweat pants before he twisted at the hips and kissed him again. “God, you are beautiful,” he murmured against Cass’ mouth as he pushed his shoulders down until his back was against the mattress.

“We could go another round or two,” Castiel teased before his hands came up and slowly pulled down the zipper, “I don’t have to be there until 6. I have plenty of time.” His voice was different, a bit higher, without his smoky gravel.

“Are you sure?” The artist teased as he captured Castiel’s bottom lip in between his teeth, nipping at it playfully before he pulled away.

“Because I would love to fuck this great ass another time.” The artist’s hands moved down Castiel’s form, only this time Cass was aware of the lithe firmness of the man’s chest and the hardness between his legs. Lips travelled down his mouth, sucked on the unfamiliar sharpness of a lean collarbone, then a tongue lapped at a hardened nipple on his flat chest. 

“What the fuck!” Castiel yelled and he found himself falling out of bed as he woke up with a panicked start. He landed with a heavy thud on the cool, ceramic tile floor with the bed linens all tangled up around his ankles. He somehow managed to stumble into the bathroom to look at his reflection. Blue eyes, spiky, dark brown hair, high cheeks, sharp, straight nose, strong chin, reflected back at him and he leaned heavily against the sink. What the hell was going on in his head? He hadn’t dreamt about this much sex before, and this time he knew whatever it was, didn’t come from a movie. He washed off his face and for a moment he thought about picking up the phone and calling Balthazar or dad but something made him pause.

What was he going to tell either of them? He was having sensual dreams about a man he never met? Yeah Balthazar would tell him the dreams meant he needed to get laid and Chuck would tell him - not to worry, that dreams like that are normal then launch into some long, grand, spill about how he had those kind of dreams when he was younger and blah, blah, blah. So no, no calling either of them and instead Castiel stared up at his bland ceiling. This was going to be a long, restless night.

Castiel figured laying in bed and just staring up at the ceiling wasn’t the best way to pass the time. He wasn’t about to start reading again because who knows what he would dream about. He couldn’t call anyone because it was the middle of the night and if they weren’t sleeping, all the people he knew would be at the hospital. Surfing the internet or watching a movie would just rev up his mind and then he really wouldn’t get any sleep. He thought about going for a walk but once again, it was the middle of the night and he didn’t want to wake up Alfie. Castiel stared up at his ceiling trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with him.

“I love this book,” the artist explained as he flipped through the pages of the book ‘Graffiti World: Street Art from Five Continents’. “You didn’t have to get me this,” he added as he flopped down on top of the covers next to a comfortable under the blankets Castiel. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t know if you had it,” Castiel explained as he rolled off his back onto his right step to watch as the artist looked over the pages and pages of artwork, “but when I saw it, I thought of you.”

The artist smiled before he closed the book. He pressed his lips gently to Castiel’s hoping the gesture would say more than words. “This is amazing.” His delight with the gift radiated in his green eyes.

Castiel pulled one arm out from under the covers. He traced the artist’s jaw with his thumb before he felt his mouth move into a broad smile. “Tell me about your favorite design,” he encountered with a nod to the book. “Explain why you like it and what it says to you.”  
“A man that knows my heart,” the artist replied with a wide grin, “but it’s going to take me a while to go through all of them. You might be laying there for a while.”

“Then tell me what you think of any page,” Castiel answered as he shifted under the covers closer to the man. They might be separated by a few inches of fabric but Castiel didn’t mind at all. The sheets gave them a chance to talk for a while before they mean into their carnal activities. “I want to know what you think.”

“Sounds good to me,” the artist added before he crawled as close so Castiel could see the pages. He started with a basic description then launched into the use of color and lines. Each work told a story as the artist explained, every viewer would have a different interpretation. Some would see it as just unclean graffiti that needed to be painted over while others would call it a masterpiece and compare it to Von Gogh, Monet, or Picasso.

“The relationship between an artist and a viewer is intimate,” he explained as he traced his finger over a page, “it’s letting a stranger to see a piece of your soul. Do you know how brave you have to be to put a piece on display?”


	11. Chapter Nine:  Epithalamus

Castiel’s eyes opened with his bladder nagging at him. Great, he grumbled as he stumbled out of bed. He finally had a normal dream and this is what happened. He sighed heavily as he entered the bathroom. A break bathroom break and all that entailed and Castiel was back in his bedroom. He looked out the window. It was still dark outside but he wondered if he would be able to get back to sleep. He climbed back into bed and waited. Sleep was just about to take him under and as his eyelids closed, he could have sworn someone kissed him.

“So why am I agreeing to this again?” Castiel asked as he stared up at the painted ceiling. He was covered in a thick layer of petroluem jelly and there was some kind of white powder on top of that. “Are you sure this is safe? This doesn’t sound safe at all. Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Do you really not trust me?” A voice drawled near his ear before he felt a playful nip. “I promise you, I know what I’m doing. I have done this before to myself. Yes it’s safe. And you agreed to this because I asked you to.”

He shook his head as the artist wrapped something that looked like cling wrap around the left calf. “No, I agreed to this because you said it was safe. I don’t want to do this. This isn’t normal. I can’t do this.” Panic rose in his stomach as his breathing sped up. “I changed my mind. Stop!”

The artist was at his head in a split second, taking his strong jaw, narrow cheeks and stubbled chin in his hands and rubbing his thumbs under the eyes. “Babe, listen to me. I’m not going to do anything you don’t want to do.” The artist explained as he leaned over and kissed the plump lips. “If you don’t want this, I don’t have to do this. I can do something else. Maybe paint your body, bring you over to that wall, and,” his voice dropped into a low, seductive whisper right then, “fuck you against that, making it my canvas.” 

Castiel felt a lustful shiver run down his spine before he worked is teeth over his bottom lip. His mind clicked then and his head tilted to the left. “Now I remember why I agreed to this,” his voice rumbled from deep in his chest.

“You don’t have to do this you know,” the artist explained before he dropped a soft kiss to Cass’ lips. “I was serious about painting your body.”  
“No, I want to do this,” Castiel answered before he looked up at the ceiling again. “Just don’t cover my face.”

“Didn’t plan on that,” the artist answered before he moved around. “How about I do your feet up to your knees first and if that goes well, we can do more?”

Castiel bit his bottom lip before he nodded. He tried to calm his breathing when the artist touched his foot. He forced himself to remain still and breathe deep as he stared up at the ceiling. He focused on the colors and the mandala design. He blinked then shuddered, as the design seemed to shift and glare down at him. 

Castiel opened his mouth to shout at the artist, only to have the mandala shatter. The shards fell onto him before he could lift his head.

Castiel was in the desert again, the sun beating down on him while he was trapped under something heavy. Gunfire, the sun, the sand, he felt himself choking on his own blood and breathing was too difficult. He blinked and the barrell of a gun was pressed against his forehead. He felt light headed from blood lost and shock. He closed his eyes and waited. 

“Wake up!” A voice cut into the dream and Castiel’s eyes snapped open.

Castiel sat up in his bed and ran his hand over his face. This time he was going to remember the nightmare. He reached over to his nightstand and opened the drawer for some paper and a pen. He put the pen to the paper but when he went to write, he couldn’t think of why he had a pen or the paper. Castiel sighed before he tapped the pen, then shoved everything back into the drawer. He hated this, the waking up in the middle of the night and not remembering why.

Castiel sat up in his bed before he pulled his knees up to his chest. He sighed heavily before he closed his eyes, then put his head on his knees. He took several deep breaths trying to calm his racing heart. He wished he had someone with him, to hold him and tell him everything would be all right.

“I am so sorry about this,” he heard the ghostly echo as he breathed. 

Castiel lifted his head then shook it. He knew he was hearing things, most likely because he was aggravated at himself for not remembering what was waking him up in the middle of the night. Castiel climbed out of bed and padded into the bathroom. He stripped out of his sweaty pajamas before he stepped into the shower. He turned on the hot water as high as it would go. He stayed under the spray until the water ran cold.

Castiel turned off the tap before he stepped out of the stall. He toweled himself off before he walked back into his bedroom. He went over to his dresser and opened the top drawer where he kept his boxers. He pulled out a pair of light green ones, then pulled them up his legs before he threw on a cotton tee.

He went into the living room, grabbed his laptop off the coffee table, and went back into his bedroom. Castiel got comfortable on his bed before he powered up his laptop. He waited for the machine to boot then logged into his account. His desktop appeared a moment later and he clicked on his browser. He didn’t bother with his email since he checked it earlier. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to look for, so he typed in ‘graffiti murals with mandalas’ and hit enter.

Castiel glanced at the first site that came up which offered an explanation of what graffiti murals where and what the mandala represented. When he read that, he clicked on the ‘gallery’ link and found several examples. Most of the images were commissioned works for private collectors and while all were beautiful with amazing details, none of them stirred a reaction. 

Castiel went back to the web search, clicked on the next page down, and found it to be mostly the same. There was a brief explanation of graffiti art, a list of ‘famous graffiti artists’ then more on the mandala. The gallery didn’t have many completed images but it did show the procession of the mandala from start to completion.

He returned to the search again, only to find that pages three, four, and five where more of the same explanation. The galleries consisted of different graffiti artworks, but not much in the way of mandalas. Castiel sighed heavily when he returned to the search page. He wasn’t even sure why he wanted to look up the subject anymore, but something nagged at him and he continued. He clicked on the last link on the page.  
Castiel’s eyes glanced over the header for the ‘Colt Gallery for Contemporary Art’ then clicked on the media link at the top. That brought him to another page and as he scrolled down, his breath caught in this throat. In the third column, on the tenth row, there was a graffiti mural of a woman’s face half cast in a pale pink light, with her chin tilted up, eyes closed, metallic blue skin, a sharp nose, the detail in the eyelashes against the skin, a mass of pitch black hair flowing behind her face, on one of the most detailed and colorful mandalas. He clicked on the thumbnail immediately and gasped as it took him to the ‘about this artist’ page.

A handsome man with bright green eyes, full lips, high cheek bones, and brown hair cut in the standard military fashion stared back at him. This was the artist in his dreams. Castiel’s eyes widened at the brief artist bio. The man from his dreams was a soldier named Dean Winchester. The very same Dean Winchester that came into St. PG’s ER all those weeks ago, and the same man that forced his entire neural network into Castiel. 

Castiel slammed the laptop shut at that and scurried away from it like it was possesed. He covered his mouth with his hands. What the hell was going on? Why was he dreaming about Dean? And what was going on in his head? He dropped his hands to the bed and tried to think. This was weird, too weird for him to keep this to himself. He needed to talk to Balthazar and then have a bunch of tests run. He needed to know what was wrong with his head. He felt this stress level climbing steadily with every second as he made a mental list of what he needed to do. Castiel couldn’t calm down and believed he would go mad. His bottom lip trembled at the thought of being locked up in some asylum.

Castiel’s breath grew short and shallow as his heart pounded in his chest. He was so terrified of losing his mind. He closed his eyes, dreading the thought of what would happen to him only to feel the sensation of a warm, calming hand rubbing small, comforting circles over his back. His muscles relaxed under the touch and his mind grew calmer with each passing moment. He smiled dreamily before he laid his head against the pillows and fell asleep a few breaths later.

Castiel opened his eyes and found himself looking up at the familiar graffiti mural. He propped himself up onto his elbows before he looked around for the ‘artist’. The apartment was one giant artist’s studio without any kind of division. Castiel growled before he threw back the covers.

“Where are you, Dean Winchester?” He shouted into the space. “You come out here right now!”

“You don’t have to shout,” Dean answered as he emerged from a door on the left wall with steam billowing out from behind him. “I’m here.” He wrapped a white, terry cloth, towel around his waist as he stepped into the main part of the studio.

Castiel blinked a few times, totally caught off guard by the calmness in Dean’s voice and the fact that the man was wrapped in nothing but a towel that only reached mid thighs. He gaped at Dean for a few seconds before his brain caught up to his body and he shook his head to clear out the cobwebs.

“What did you do to me?” Castiel asked, his voice just a bit shaky. “Why do I dream of this place and being shot at in a desert? What did you do?”

“Shit!” Dean swore before he moved behind a several easels that were placed side by side. There was a scraping sound, like a drawer off its runner being pulled open. “Sorry about the desert thing. You weren’t supposed to get any of that. It’s a bad memory of mine.” He pulled on a gray t shirt with ‘ARMY’ printed over the chest, and a pair of black sweats.

“Weren’t supposed? Bad memory?” Castiel looked ready to throttle Dean within an inch of his life. “A bad memory of yours? How the hell are you still in my head? Your pattern got downloaded, then deleted!” He stormed up to Dean ready to swing. He had some strange guy in his head. “You forced your neural pattern into me! How the fuck did you do that?”

Castiel felt his chest tighten as this wave of overwhelming panic hit his system. He would be forced to live with his person in his head, no getting away, no moment of peace and privacy. He wouldn’t be able to work, and who knows what would happen to him when the doctors studied him. He gasped raspy, sharp, and short at the thought of no longer being a free person.

Dean placed his hands on each of Castiel’s shoulders and eased the man back to the bed. He pushed the panicked man down onto the mattress. Dean sat next to Cass, then placed one hand on Castiel’s back and the other on his stomach.

“Breathe, slow and steady, in and out,” Dean instructed before he moved the hand on Castiel’s back in comforting, easy circles. He kept his other hand on Cass’ belly right under the rib cage to help focus breathing. “There you go, like that,” Dean whispered when he felt Cass’ chest move up and down in a steady rhythm.

“How is this happening?” Castiel asked once he got the panic under control. “How are you still in my head? What’s going to happen to me?”

“I don’t want to tell you right now,” Dean answered. “It’s very complicated and we don’t have time. I’ll explain everything later. Right now, just relax.”

Castiel found it easy to listen to Dean even though he knew he should remain on high alert. Something about this just made Castiel want to believe that everything would turn out just by following the soldier’s advice. Maybe it was the fact that he was lonely, that he hadn’t really had someone to relax around since the implantation. Maybe it was the fact that he was just physically tired from the accident still. Or maybe it was that Dean had a pleasing face with high cheek bones, and a straight nose. Castiel already knew how soft and lush the pink, full lips were and he forced himself not to run his hand through Dean’s short, brown hair. At least he had a name now. That was something. He could work with this. He could find out what happened. 

Castiel woke up the next morning, feeling rested, relaxed, and settled. He looked around his bed, saw his laptop at the corner, and remembered what he found in his search. Castiel remembered finding the artwork, then Dean’s painting and his bio. He nodded to himself before he slid out of bed, then picked up his computer and placed it on his nightstand.

Castiel walked out of the bedroom into the main living area. He needed breakfast before he went to work. He found Alfie with a bowl of cereal in front of him at the table.

“The rent’s due at the end of the week,” the blonde explained around a mouthful of the marshallow and rice krisp cereal, “I put my portion on the cork board already.”

“Thanks,” Castiel answered before he pulled a bowl out of the cabinents and the milk from the fridge. He walked over to the table, picked up the cereal box, poured himself a bowl, then added the milk. He put the milk back, then grabbed a spoon from the little drawer next to the sink.

“Are you going to work today?” Alfie asked as he finished his cereal.

Castiel nodded after he spooned a mouthful of cereal. He relaxed over the weekend and now it was time to get back to work.

“Good,” Alfie patted his shoulder before he picked up his bowl and spoon and put them in the sink. “Can we keep the music on all the time? It makes it seem like there’s always something happening.”

Normally Cass would have protested but some down seeding reason told him to agree. “Sure as long as it’s not too loud. We don’t need the neighbors complaining.”

“Thanks, Cass,” Alfie grinned before he walked into his bedroom and left Castiel alone to finish his breakfast.


	12. Chapter 10:  Thalamus

“You need to go back home,” Balthazar told him the second Castiel walked into the lab, “you still look tired.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. He had enough time away from the Transition floor, and the weekend away seemed to recharge his batteries. “I’m fine, Balthazar. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“You’re not on the schedule,” Balthazar stated with a slight shrug, “at least not for another few days. I suggest staying away from the hospital while you have the chance.”

Castiel shot Balthazar a dirty look before he shook his head. “If I don’t work, I don’t get paid. I don’t get paid, I can’t pay my bills.”

Balthazar laughed before he threw his arm over Castiel’s shoulders. “I am more than willing to pay your bills, Cassie.”

“I don’t need a sugar daddy, Balthazar,” Castiel retorted before he gently lifted his friend’s arm off his shoulder. “While I thank you for the offer, I would like to pay my own bills.”

“Cass,” Balthazar crossed his arms over his chest and let out a heavy sigh, “are you sure you’ll even get paid for being here if you’re not on the schedule?”

Castiel opened his mouth to answer only to realize he didn’t know what to say. He had plenty of paid time off built up, but he wasn’t too sure he should use so much of it now. He thought about for another minute or two before he nodded. “Okay, I’ll go home. Call me when I’m back on the schedule.”

“I will,” Balthazar answered before he waved Castiel off, “and I’ll come see you after my shift tonight.”

“Thanks,” Castiel called over his shoulder before he walked out of the lab. He did stop in to see Chuck and update him on his situation, excluding everything about the dreams and the nightmares. He didn’t need his father fussing over him.

Castiel just stepped foot inside his building when he ran into the super. The man was shorter than Castiel with light brown hair, a wide forehead, light brown eyes with just a touch of green, and always carried a bag of some kind of candy.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” The man asked from the door of Apartment #1 while he chewed on a red licorice candy.

“I’m off for the next few days,” Castiel answered a bit too sharply because he didn’t like it when someone he really didn’t know got into his business.

“Oh, so you’re free for the next couple of days?” The man smirked devilishly at the idea in his head. “Then you can help me paint the front of the building. I’ll knock some off your rent.”

“No, Gabriel,” Castiel dismissed his land lord’s idea because no amount of money was worth working on a project with him. That man had the attention span of a gold fish and according to Gabriel, he had an allergy to manual labor.

“Rent’s due at the end of the week,” Gabriel offered as if it was some huge secret. “Are you sure you’ll have the money?”

“Yes, I have the money,” Castiel ground his teeth at that. He and Alfie hadn’t been late on the rent since they moved into the building five years ago. Castiel would have stormed off right then if he hadn’t remembered something.

“Do you still hack into those government databases?” He questioned.

Gabriel nearly choked on his licorie stick. “Don’t say that so loud!” He hissed before he grabbed Castiel’s arm and hauled the other man into his apartment. “You do realize that is a highly guarded secret?” Gabriel slammed his door closed.

“Then why brag about it when you’re doing your laundry?” Castiel questioned as he blinked at Gabriel.

“That’s to get ladies,” Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows at that. “And why do you want to know if I hack government databases?”

“There’s this guy,” Castiel offered the bare minimum because he didn’t trust Gabriel one bit, “named Dean Winchester. He came into the ER about a month ago and he died. Well the military came for the body and I thought it was weird. I tried to find some information but I got nothing.”

“Sounds easy enough,” Gabriel remarked before he moved over to his computer. “You wouldn’t happen to know the branch of the military?”

“The guy in charge said he was Navy,” Castiel answered with a slight shrug. “Don’t know if it’s true or not.”

“No big deal,” Gabriel waved off Cass with that, “I’ll see what I can find.”

“Thank you,” Castiel walked out of the landlord’s apartment with that.

Ten minutes later, Castiel was stretched out on his couch, dressed in a comfortable, cotton, gray t-shirt and a pair of matching lounge pants. The tv was on some documentary about outer space and while Cass tried to pay attention, he couldn’t. His energy seemed to drain away from him and before he knew it, he was snoring lightly, asleep on the couch.

“Hey, Cass,” Dean teased from behind his sketch pad as he sat on the other end of the couch, “about time you got here.” There was a black smudge over Dean’s right eyebrow as if he wiped sweat away with a dirty hand.

Castiel jumped a little from the spot on the couch not completely used to having Dean in his dreams. “I don’t like this. You need to be out of my head.”

“Did you not hear me the first time?” Dean questioned as he set the pad down on the floor and stared at the doctor. “If I’m not in your head, I don’t exist.”

“Then let’s get you out of my head,” Castiel thought this would have been Dean’s first priority but the soldier didn’t seem to be in a rush. “You know into a body? Which isn’t mine?”

Dean rubbed his hand over his forehead as if to fight off a building headache. “Military is watching you. Why do you think there’s music on all the time in your apartment?”

“What?” Cass jumped off the couch then and paced. “My apartment is bugged? Are you serious? Are there cameras all over? Can they see me now?”

“Calm down,” Dean consoled as he stood up and walked over to the other man. “I checked for cameras already. They can’t see you.”

“How in the world did you manage that?” If Castiel had been awake, if this wasn’t a dream, he was sure he would feel sick. He rubbed his hands over his belly trying to steady his nerves. “What did you do to me?”

“You know how sometimes people get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom but they aren’t really aware of it?” Dean asked as he eased himself off the couch and tried to make Cass understand. “Well your bathroom breaks are just a bit longer. I borrowed your body a few times during the night to check.”

“Don’t borrow my body without permission!” Castiel snapped before he let out an annoyed grunt. “I am not some empty shell you can take over whenever you want! I want to be in control.”

“You wouldn’t have even known where to look,” Dean hissed right back. “I am trying to keep us both alive here. You don’t want to be in the hands of the military. They will break you.”

“And you think that makes body snatching me, okay?” Castiel shouted. He was so mad right now that if this wasn’t all in his head, he would have stormed out of his apartment. But since Dean was in his head, he couldn’t get away.

“Yes,” Dean snapped before he grabbed Castiel’s shoulder and turned so they were facing one another. “Keeping you safe keeps me safe. Keeping you alive keeps you me. Dying sucked the first time. I am not doing it again!”

“Well what about me?” Castiel tried to pull away from Dean finding it difficult. He knew Dean had a point about being safe and staying alive but that didn’t mean he liked the methods. “It’s my neutral pattern that’s being pushed aside when you’re in control. How do I know I’ll even come back? You’re a soldier! You’re trained to kill!”

“I’m not trying to replace you!” Dean snapped finally letting go of Castiel’s shoulders. “Do you really think I would do that?”

“I don’t know you! We had hot dream sex! For all I know, this could be some kind of sabotage!” Castiel answered.

“You think I’m trying to kill you?” Dean’s voice lost all the bitterness and hurt that he built up during the argument. Some people might have called Dean a bastard before but no one ever accused him anything like this.

Castiel was about to make some snappy retort, but before he could say anything, he woke up on his couch to the sound of someone pounding maniacally on his door. “Coming!” He called out before he got up, walked over to the door, and found Gabriel standing there with a horrified look on his face.

Gabriel brushed passed Castiel without being invited in. “Dude, you’re in trouble.” He stated after Cass closed the door. “That Dean Winchester guy, his file is highly classified and I’m talking above the President’s, CIA Director, FBI, all that jazz, highly classified. Apparently he’s some kind of super experimental, super soldier. The experiment has been shut down because the test subjects kept dying in the trials. And the ones that didn’t die during the trials were killed in accidents that weren’t accidents at all.”

“How can an accident not be an accident?” Castiel kept his eyes on Gabriel while his instincts told him to look for Dean.

“Murders disguised as accidents,” Gabe clarified, “like your boy, Dean. Yeah, from the outside, it looked like a home robbery gone bad, but here’s the kick. The men that broke into Dean’s house? They were ordered by someone to do it and were paid handsomely. Dude, I don’t know about you but I suggest getting the hell out of Dodge. If their sights turn to you…”

“Who ordered Dean killed?” Castiel asked. He wasn’t going to run scared now that he knew Dean had been telling the truth.

“Everything tied back to a Doctor Elanor Visyak,” Gabriel answered with a slight shrug, “but she wasn’t involved in the project so I doubt it’s her.”

Castiel just shook his head, unsure of what to do next. He needed to talk to Dean and considering Dean was just in his head, he needed to get rid of Gabe to hold a conversation with himself.

“Thank you for looking into it, Gabriel. I’ll have the rent to you by the end of the week.” He eased Gabriel out the door before he shut and locked it. He was too wired to sleep and he wasn’t sure how he could talk to Dean. So far, he only saw Dean when he was sleep.

“Dude, I’m in your head,” Castiel blinked and there stood Dean leaning against his kitchen table in a pair of faded blue jeans, hung low at the waist, and the gray ‘ARMY’ tee, “we can talk any time.”

Castiel jumped back a bit, completely unsure of what he was seeing. Okay yes he had a second pattern in his head, and he was dreaming about this guy, and they talked in shared dreams, and had wonderful sex, but standing there?

“Don’t panic!” Dean ordered as he held up his hands. “And keep your voice down. The TV only covers so much and if you start screaming, someone might hear.” He paused for a few seconds letting Castiel take several long, deep breaths. When he was sure Castiel wouldn’t freak out, he continued. “Look, I know this is seems like some strange drug induced vision but it’s not. I’m here.”

“You were murdered!” Castiel exclaimed as he walked over to Dean. He didn’t try to touch because this was already one step too weird for him. “You were killed! Someone was after you!”

“Yes I was murdered,” Dean admitted like it wasn’t that big a deal.

“Did you hide in my mind to hide from them?” Castiel questioned, before he motioned to the bedroom. He was not going to have Alfie walk in and see him talking to himself.

Dean shrugged, then disappeared, only to reappear in the bedroom when Cass got there. “I grabbed you to survive,” he growled as he sat down on the bed, “and no I’m not hiding in your head.”

“Then what do you call it?” Castiel asked as he crossed the room and sat down on his bed.

Dean shrugged. “Hitching a ride until I get a new body.”

“You want a new body?” Castiel got off the bed with that and paced the room. “I can’t get you a new body. I can’t tell anyone you’re in my head. If I do, I became another experiment and so do you.” He finally understood what Dean had been talking about in the dreams. If the military found out that Dean was still in there, even after all those tests, Castiel knew he was going to be dissected to figure out how Dean went undetected. And with Gabriel’s added information, Castiel now understood Dean’s need for safety. When handsomely paid, trained killers had their sights on you, one did not just walk right up to the gun barrel and go ‘shoot me!’

“I am not going to be an experiment again,” Dean snapped before he flopped back on the bed. “I did that once. Never again.”

“How am I seeing you?” Castiel asked as he closed his eyes and tried to process this situation. “I understand being able to see you when I’m asleep but why am I seeing you now?” He opened his eyes then looked over at Dean.

“That’s me,” Dean chuckled as he raised his hand. “Part of the experiment. Mind games, basically.”

Cass chuckled once, deep and low, back in his throat, before he looked up at the ceiling. “Make your target think they’re crazy because they see someone that’s not there.”

“Among other things,” Dean grumbled before he turned to face Cass, “what they wanted us to do…it wasn’t…..”

“It was highly illegal and inhumane,” Castiel reasoned with a good deal of sympathy for the other man.

“Yeah,” Dean answered before he closed his eyes.

Castiel looked over at Dean and took in the sight of the other man. “Did you have any dealings with a General Victor Henricksen?”

“He was in charge of the project,” Dean answered with a rueful smirk. “He hand picked the men that would participate in the experiment and he made sure to take off all the loose ends.”

“I experienced that,” Castiel grumbled while he remembered his returned to the hospital, the closed floor, and the guards with guns.  
Dean nodded with a perfect smirk. “Yeah, you did good,” he admitted with a great deal of pride. “No one talks to the General like that.”  
“You did that,” Cass knew he didn’t have that much nerve, and when he was dealing with Henricksen, he’d felt like someone else.

Dean turned his head to the side and looked at Castiel. “Yeah I did that. Bastard ordered me killed and made it happen. And he couldn’t make a scene at the hospital so I toughened up your back bone a bit.”

“So why did you pick me?” Castiel asked just to keep his thoughts off the man in front of him. He wasn’t sure why he tried considering that Dean knew what he was thinking.

“I didn’t,” Dean explained before he got up and paced around Castiel’s bedroom, surveying for anything out of the ordinary. “I knew that five gun shots to the chest wouldn’t be survivable, and I wasn’t about to go down without a fight. I grabbed you because you were close.”

“So how do we get you out of my head? I’m sure this isn’t good for either of us,” Castiel offered with a slight narrowing of his eyes.

“Right now I want to stay in your head,” Dean admitted quietly before he ran his hand down Castiel’s arm from the shoulder to the wrist., “If I leave, I die.”

Castiel remembered Dean’s words ‘dying sucked the first time’ and realized that everyone had survival instincts. Dean’s had been triggered just as Castiel’s would have been if their roles were reserved. “I’m sorry for the early fight,” Castiel admitted softly looking at the floor. “I shouldn’t have accused you of trying to kill me.” 

“It’s okay,” Dean grumbled under the weight of the words. This was really getting odd and he wasn’t too sure if he was heading into a proverbial mine field.

“Dean, I mean it,” Castiel smiled as his eyes met Dean’s, and even though Dean was just in his head and not really on the bed with him, he wondered how the man’s skin would feel against his. He watched as Dean smirked and that’s when Castiel realized Dean could read his thoughts. He blushed crimson before Dean smiled.

“If you want to, we can,” Dean suggested not taking his eyes off Castiel. “They didn’t perfect touch while the subject was awake, only when they’re asleep.”

Castiel smiled before he nodded. “I’m willing to try if you are,” he whispered, afraid this would all go away on the next breath. “Knock me out.”

Dean chuckled before he blinked out of Cass’ sight only for the doctor to yawn heavily, and his entire body relaxed. He knew it was Dean’s doing and when his eyelids closed, he found himself still in his own bedroom and Dean laying beside him.

“Hey,” Dean greeted as he propped his head up on his hand, “you look nice.”

Castiel glanced down at himself and turned a lovely shade of bashful pink at the sight of his nude body. “Why am I naked? I had clothes on before.”

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” Dean admitted before he placed his hand on Castiel’s toned stomach’ “You’re naked because you want to be.” He instictively slid his fingers over the skin, making slow, lazy circles on the smooth, unmarked skin.

“I haven’t,” Castiel began only to bite his bottom lip as Dean’s hand moved downward. “It’s been. Implants.”

Dean rolled over just a bit before he leaned over and gently kissed Castiel’s lips. He pulled back a few seconds later then smiled. “It’s okay, Cass. I get it. We can go as slow as you want.”

Castiel nodded before he reached up, placed one hand behind Dean’s neck then slowly pulled the other man’s head down until their lips met. The kiss was slow, lavishous, sensual and oh so perfect. Dean knew exactly when Castiel wanted his bottom lip nipped or sucked, knew where to put his hands so Castiel would gasp and arch, knew how much pressure to use so Castiel would open his mouth and let Dean’s tongue inside.

“Dean,” Castiel moaned under the weight of the other man. “How can…? How can you still be in here?” He touched their foreheads together with that.

Dean smiled slightly before he removed his hand from Castiel’s stomach but kept the other one on the other’s back. “Short, simple answer? I’m in your head because I didn’t let go of your pathways during the download. The military wanted to weaponize Memory Movement and Adaption and I was a part of the experiment.”

“Weaponize?” Castiel’s eyes went wide.

“Yeah, weaponize,” Dean nodded before he waved his free hand. “The military wanted to create a bunch of soldiers that would force their pathways onto hostile heads of states. And after that, you don’t want to know.” Dean removed his hand from Castiel’s back then.

Castiel let out a heavy sigh before he looked around the studio. “Still doesn’t explain how you’re in my head now. You said you didn’t let go during the download.”

“The project made it where unless we were willing to leave the person we were in,” Dean began with a casual tone, “we wouldn’t be forced out by a download. And considering we were designed to take over people that aren’t friendly in the first place, you can see why it would be important. Cass, the experiment was about letting us completely take over a person’s mind and body. Basically slowly replacing their pattern with our own until the point, the original person didn’t exist.”

Castiel finally looked over at Dean. His eyes were this impossibly, bright green color that Cass found unique and intense. He was frightened yet something about Dean settled him. He realized they needed one another. They were bound by circumstances and while it wasn’t perfect, it would have to do.

“Earlier, when I asked if you were going to replace me?” He paused for a moment. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I was scared. I am scared but I shouldn’t take that out on you.”

“Taking over your body without your permission is a crappy thing to do.” Dean stretched out his arm offering warmth and comfort to the doctor and smiled happily when Castiel accepted. With that cleared up, Dean could move on to the next issue. “Look, me killing you? Not going to happen. I promise you that but we have to be careful right now. Lay low until the military is happy and then go about getting me a body and you back to your life. How does that sound?”

“I can handle that,” Castiel answered as he lined his body against Dean’s from shoulder to foot. “And Dean, you have my permission to use my body. I understand that there will times when you need to be in charge for whatever reason. Just make sure I get control back, okay?” 

“Thanks, Cass,” Dean whispered, his head tucked into Castiel’s shoulder unsure of what else to say. “Thank you.”

Castiel smiled before he ran his hand over Dean’s arm then blushed remembering how Dean made him feel during their sex sessions. Being this close to Dean, feeling the warmth and the texture of skin against his made him yearned for contact. He wondered if the soldier knew what he was thinking right now.

Dean chuckled and Castiel smiled, so used to the sound from the artist. “Do you really want to talk some more?” He nimbled at the hallow in between Castiel’s shoulder and neck. “Or do you want to fuck?”

“Fuck,” Castiel breathed out as he closed his eyes and just felt Dean’s lips move over his cheek, jaw, and neck. “Please, Dean.”

“Okay, Cass,” Dean purred.

Suddenly Castiel was on all fours, ass up in the air and Dean buried deep. Castiel bit his bottom lip and arched his back, while Dean moved forward and backward. He felt Dean’s fingers trace the curve of his spine before they gripped his hips and gently squeezed.

“You’re perfect, Cass,” Dean pleaded as they moved together.

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” Castiel chanted as he rolled his hips backward to meet Dean’s forward thrusts. “Dean!” He shouted when his climax hit. In this dream state, everything seemed more intense and Castiel went limp. He felt Dean pump a few more times before the other man came inside him.

“Thank you,” Dean whispered happily right next to Castiel’s ear. “This is amazing.” He kissed the nape of Castiel’s neck before he lightly bit the shoulder.

“You’ll give me a hickey,” Castiel teased through a loud moan with a wide smile on his face.

Dean chuckled, kept sucking on that spot, and when he lifted his lips, he blew across the skin. He felt Castiel shiver underneath, and he lowered himself gently over him to warm him. “Did you enjoy this?”

Castiel nodded against his sheets. He enjoyed this a bit too much, because even though he was dreaming, he felt sleepy. “Yes, a part of me wishes I could stay like this forever.”

Dean ran his hand over the expanse of Castiel’s back, then nuzzled his chin against the doctor’s shoulder. “That would be nice.”

“Dreams like this are always nice,” he replied before he shifted his hips a bit and felt Dean’s hips against his. “And since we’re having all this dream sex, I should get to know you,” he whispered before he turned on his side.

“Cass,” Dean leaned in close and smirked, “in your head. Know what you like and you like having someone inside you far more than you like being inside someone.”

“This is completely not fair, Winchester,” Castiel tapped his temple before he looked up at Dean. “I know nothing about you but with you in here, you know everything about me.”

Dean smiled happily before he chuckled. “You know, when I get a body, you could get in me. I wouldn’t mind having you in my head.”

Castiel shook his head slowly before he spread the covers out. “I think I’ll just learn about you the way a regular person would. Plus, I’m not sure if me being in your head would work like you being in mine.”

“So you wanna get to know me?” Dean raised his eyebrow while he made a tsk sound with his teeth.

“I wouldn’t mind it,” Castiel smiled because it was true. He did want to know Dean.

Dean lifted his head off the mattress before he looked around the bedroom then back at Cass. “You have twenty questions. Ask me whatever you want and I’ll answer honestly.”

“You serious?” Castiel asked. A surprised, wild and happy grin lit up his face and his blue eyes deepened with joy.

“Completely,” Dean nodded before he added, “twenty questions to get to know the amazing Dean Winchester.”

Castiel laughed with a happy lopsided smile. “Okay first question. Favorite food?”

“Big, juicy, hamburger.”

“Favorite drink?”

“Beer.”

“Favorite book?”

“Anything by Kurt Vonnegut.”

“Favorite childhood memory?”

Dean thought about that for a few seconds before a wide grin seemed to split his face. “Going to the beach with my entire family for the Fourth of July. My mom would pack a picnic, my dad would make sure to get fireworks, my brother, Sam, and I would build sand castles. We would pack into my dad’s Impala at first light, drive down to the beach, and stay until the food was eaten and all the fireworks popped.”

“Sounds like a great day,” Castiel admitted.

“It was always a great day,” Dean nodded.

“What kind of music does Dean Winchester listen to?”

“Give me classic rock,” Dean answered with nod of his head, and a happy tsk of his teeth.

“What artist do you admire?”

Dean took several minutes to think about that answer. He had a lot of likes, but which one was the one he really admired? He thought about potrait artists, then flipped through his graffiti artist file. He found one overlap. “Seen; he does this fusion of portait art and graffiti. I saw some of his works and knew that’s what I wanted to do.”

Castiel continued to ask questions about Dean, discovering the man had a classic black, ’67 Impala, a younger brother named Sam who was some kind of lawyer and lived in California, his dad was a former Marine and his mom, a retired teacher. Dean has had a few relationships, more with women than with men. He didn’t like vegetables at all and he loved pie.

“Hey Cass, you gotta wake up now,” Dean explained as he placed a series of gentle kisses to Castiel’s shoulder. “While I like being with you like this, you need to take care of yourself.”


	13. Chapter 11:  Hypothalamus

Castiel opened his eyes and found himself staring up at his ceiling. He glanced over at the clock on the nightstand and realized he’d been asleep for nearly ten hours. He sat up slowly before he rubbed his hand over his eyes. He was hunrgy and needed the bathroom. He wanted a shower as well. He stood up slowly, stretched his back and arms, then went into the bathroom. He settled his bodily needs before he stripped out of his clothes, turned on the hot warm fully then added a bit of cold. He tested the temperature with his hand before he nodded. He stepped into the shower, pulled the curtain, then turned the middle knob and sighed contently when the hot water splashed against his chest.

“You got to learn how to relax, Doc,” Dean chuckled behind Cass. “You’re tense even after great dream sex.”

Castiel turned around quickly nearly losing his balance as he did so. “Dean you shouldn’t be in here. I’m in the shower.” To say that he was surprised to see would have been an understatement. Yes, he was used to the idea of Dean being in his head and around but sometimes, Castiel still couldn’t believe Dean just popped up whenever he liked.

Dean crossed his arms over his chest with a ‘you must be joking’ look on his face. “I’m in your head. I have seen you naked and we had sex more than once.” He let his eyes roam down Castiel’s body taking in the sight of the doctor’s well built chest and defined torso below his gaze dropped lower to the V of the hips.

“I’m in the shower, Dean,” Castiel replied with his back pressed against the tiled wall. He needed just a bit of space to calm the growing excitement in his veins. Castiel could tell that Dean was checking him out and the way the solider looked at him, Castiel knew that if he asked, Dean would figure out a way to get him in bed. He couldn’t though, not right now. He needed a shower and time to gather his thoughts.

“I see that,” Dean explained with a sinfully delighted smirk. “And I wanted to keep you company.”

“You don’t have to keep me company in the shower,” Castiel remarked while he picked up the bar of green soap in the little dish attached to the wall.

“I want to,” Dean grinned as he stepped closer to the doctor. It would have been cramped in the stall with two grown men if Dean wasn’t in Cass’ head. “It’s nice to have someone to talk to. Makes me feel like I’m still around.”

“You are around,” Castiel remarked before he put his back to the water and looked directly at Dean. “You’re still in here.” He tapped his own temple at that, and gave Dean a friendly smile.

Dean returned a small smile before he looked up at the ceiling while he shook his head. “Yeah, I should let you be. I’m sure you need some time alone. Sammy got mad when I would do this, cut into his alone time.” He looked back at Casteil before he gave a slight smile. “Sorry, I should go.”

“Wait, stay. Stay in the bathroom with me, just not in the shower,” Castiel offered, wanting to take the worried edge off Dean’s face. “You can tell me all about your brother and the rest of your family.”

“Thanks, Cass,” Dean smiled before he stepped out of the stall.

Cass could see Dean’s outline through the curtain as he lathered up his body. “So tell me about Sammy. You seem to really care about him.”

“I do,” Dean laughed before he started in on the long history of Samuel Winchester. He explained that when they were little, their house burned down. Dean had been so scared when his father put baby Sammy in his arms and told him to run out the house. Dean remembered the heat of the fire, then feeling the cool grass under his feet. He remembered Sammy crying in his arms while he stood on the lawn. He told Castiel how that even at four he was terrified and the relief he felt when his father emerged out the burning house with his mother tucked under his arms.

Everything turned out all right, although they moved around a lot after that, because John enlisted in the Marines. He explained that Sammy didn’t like moving around all the time because of the packing, and unpacking, and making friends, and then having to leave.

“Sammy was a smart kid that needed to have some roots,” Dean mused before he chuckled and continued his story. “Of course, when he fell out of tree when he was six, and mom had to rush him and me to the hospital, with a broken arm he didn’t seem so smart.”

“I laughed at him the entire time his cast was on,” Dean admitted with a laugh. “He couldn’t get it wet and it was summer. He was so mad that he couldn’t swim or climb, while I could.”

“Sam’s a lawyer,” Dean added with a little bit of a chuckle, “went to Stanford on a full ride and got a job with this elite law firm.”

“Is Sam your only family?” Castiel asked as he rinsed off the soap then shampooed his hair.

“No,” Dean added, “my dad’s best friend, Bobby. He’s this grumpy, old uncle but he’s not blood related.” He paused for a few seconds then let out a slow, long breath. “I wish I could talk to them right now. Let them know that I’m still around, if that makes any sense.”

“I could make a call for you,” Castiel offered as he rinsed the suds out of his hair. “I don’t know how they would react, but it’s the least I can do. Family’s important.”

“Thank you, Cass,” Dean leaned against the back of the toilet and watched the doctor shower through the curtain. He knew exactly what he wanted to do with the other man, if he only had a body. He let his thoughts drift for a few moments before he cleared his throat. “Since I told you about my family, why not tell me about yours? Your dad runs the hospital you work at?”

“Yeah, Chuck’s my father,” Castiel admitted with a slight grumble. It wasn’t like he didn’t like his dad, far from it, they got along, but there was just something about being the boss’ son that didn’t sit well with Cass.

“Don’t like him?” Dean asked unsure if that was the correct, sensible thing to say. Every person had some issues with their parents, some were big ones like ‘I watched my dad kill my mom’, some were small ones, and the rest were in between. He thought that maybe Cass’ problems might in the small range but he wasn’t about to go prying through the doctor’s memories to find out.

“No, it’s not that,” Castiel sighed before he turned off the water then pulled back the curtain. He stepped onto the bath mat before he reached for the towel he placed by the sink. “I don’t like people at work knowing we’re related. I don’t need rumors of favoritism, or that the hospital started the Transitions program because of me.” He toweled himself off before he continued. “I do whatever I can to avoid the hospital gossip.”

“And being known as the boss’ son would put a target on your back,” Dean added easily, because he could understand that. No one needed the extra baggage of expectations that came with a last name.

“That and none of my accomplishments would really be mine,” Castiel expanded as he pulled on his clothes.

“Why go to work at your father’s hospital then?” Dean asked as he stood up and followed Castiel into the bedroom. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just find a job somewhere else?”

“St. PG’s is the only hospital in the nation with the Memory Movement and Adaption program,” Castiel remarked as he laid down on his bed. “When I found out about the field, I knew I had to be in it so it was St. PG or nothing.”

“Makes sense,” Dean nodded as he flopped down next to Cass, “it’s good you’re so dedicated.”

“I like my job. I like helping people, allowing them to continue on with their lifes. I like that families can still hear a person’s story even if they aren’t around anymore.” Castiel smiled while he laid there next to Dean. While they couldn’t touch, it was nice just to be around the soldier. He realized he liked the other man’s presence. He looked over at Dean and drank in the sight of the man. He hoped that when Dean got a body, the man would still have that twinkling sparkle in his eyes.

“You should know,” Dean teased with a bright, teasing grin. “The last person that looked at me like that, I got laid.”

Castiel blushed deeply before he cleared his throat. He sat up before he looked around for his phone. “I think I should call Sam now. What’s his number?” He asked when he picked up his phone off the dresser.

“785-555-0128,” Dean rattled off the number and watched Castiel dial the number.

“What should I say to him?” Castiel whispered with the phone pressed to his ear. “Will he answer a number he doesn’t know?”

“Sam will answer,” Dean offered while he watched Castiel move about the room.

“Hello, Mister Winchester?” Castiel answered as he sat down on the bed next to Dean. “My name is Castiel Novak and I’m a friend of Dean’s.”

“Please don’t hang up!” Castiel exclaimed as he looked over to Dean for some kind of support. He was panicked because whoever was on the other end of the line wasn’t talking and he was sure that he was about to hear a dial tone. 

“Tell him about the toy soldier he shoved into the heater of the Impala when we were on a long road trip!” Dean hurried to get the words out so Castiel could keep Sam on the phone. He was deseperate to hear his brother’s voice again. He needed to know that Sam was okay, that the military hadn’t gone after Dean’s only living relative. He hadn’t told Sammy anything about the experiment but that didn’t mean that Dean trusted the military to leave Sam alone.

“You shoved a toy soldier into the heater of the Impala when you were a kid?” He spoke into the phone. He wasn’t sure if the line would work and Castiel looked at Dean like the other man lost his mind. “Why would he care about that, Dean? Seriously, he’s going to hang up on me.”

“Wait, Dean’s there?” Sam’s voice came through the phone and Dean made a happy exclaimed gasp. “I thought he was killed in a robbery.”

“I’m here, Sammy!” Dean shouted only to remember that Castiel was the only one that could hear him. He suddenly hated this whole plan. He couldn’t talk to Sam the way he wanted to. He wanted his brother to know what happened and that everything would turn out all right but he couldn’t do that because he didn’t have a body! “Damn it!

“Mr. Winchester,” Castiel hoped he didn’t sound like a crazy man to the lawyer, “this may be hard to explain. Dean’s body is dead. His neural pathways, his personality, his memories, they have been stored in another person?” Oh good grief, he sounded like a complete lunatic. He was sure that Samuel Winchester….

“Dean underwent Memory movement?” Sam’s voice boomed through the phone. “Where is he? Is something wrong with his new body? Did the process not work correctly? When did he undergo the procedure?”

“Mr. Winchester.”

“Sam, my name is Sam. Mr. Winchester is our father,” Sam stated then allowed Castiel to continue.

“Sam, this may be a bit hard to explain,” Castiel began as he glanced over at Dean. “Dean’s in my head. There was an accident in the hospital I work at, and Dean and I came into contact. Your brother’s neural pathways are currently housed alongside my own.”

“How did that happen?” Sam questioned. “How is that even possible?”

“It’s very complicated, Sam. I’m not even sure of how it happened,” Castiel explained gently because he really had no idea what to say. Here he was trying to explain to the brother of an alleged dead man that said dead man was still around and in his head; he didn’t know how much of the experiment Dean wanted Sam to know. “We don’t know how it’s possible.”

“Should I fly out?” Sam asked suddenly completely taking Castiel and Dean off guard. “Does he want me there?”

“Yes,” Castiel answered for Dean, “I think it would be important for him to be around family.”

“I’ll be there by the end of the week,” Sam admitted.

“Thank you, Sam,” Castiel stated before he glanced over to Dean to see if the man had anything else to say. When Dean shook his head, Castiel nodded. “Have a safe trip. See you soon.” He ended the call with that. 

“He’ll bring Bobby as well,” Dean explained.

“I”ll meet your family,” Castiel smiled.

“Big hurtle in a relationship,” Dean teased.

“I hope they like me.”

“They will.” Dean stood up then stretched for a few seconds before he grinned with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Let’s go on a date.”


	14. Chapter 12:  Subthalamus

The date Dean took Castiel on was one of the most unique and interesting ones of Castiel’s life. It didn’t start out that great, what with Dean insulting his car, a blue Fiat, and complaining about the lack of space.

“I’m pretty sure a match box is bigger than this,” Dean grumbled inside Castiel’s head while he drove out of the city. He appeared in the passanger seat once Castiel pulled onto the highway. “No, a match box is bigger than this. Is this even considered a car?”

“Dean,” Castiel stopped before the man could really pick up steam on the insults, “you do realize I have no idea where I’m going and if you complain about the car instead of giving me directions, I will get lost.” He didn’t know enough about the area to guess where Dean might be taking him. The soldier only explained that he thought Castiel needed a fun night out away from the city and Dean knew the perfect place to take him.

Dean growled a bit before he focused on the road, reading the signs as they passed. “On the way back, stop there,” he pointed at a building just off the highway with the ‘Roadhouse’ in red, glowing lights above the door.

Castiel looked over at the building then rolled his eyes. “Dean, I’m not going to some dive bar in the middle of nowhere. I don’t even go to bars!” He didn’t have his pills with him and if he turned off the implants now, the process would exhaust him. He didn’t want to fall asleep behind the wheel. “Dean, I can’t get in a crowd. Accidental touch?”

“It’s not a dive bar,” Dean protested hotly, “and you need to see it. It’s not some club, Cass. It’s a bar. We can get a table in the back away from the bustle.”

Castiel was about to list off the reasons they shouldn’t go to the bar, citing protocols and such but he knew it wouldn’t work with Dean. “I don’t like bars, Dean. I never have. Smokey, crowded, much too loud, not the kind of place I want to go.”

“I promise the Roadhouse is nothing like that,” Dean exclaimed as the building grew smaller in the side mirror. “You’ll like it.”

“On the way back and we can’t stop for long,” Castiel bargained as they drove, “and if I don’t like it, we leave.”

“Deal,” Dean agreed before he pointed to the sign above the road, “we got a mile before our exit.”

“Where are we going?” Castiel asked.

“You’ll see,” Dean teased.

Castiel shook his head but continued to drive, taking the correct exit, then driving a good ways down before turning onto another road.

“Horror movies have better scenery than this,” he mumbled while he followed Dean’s directions until he arrived at a gate marked ‘Lost Land Drive-In’. He glanced over to Dean, who Cheshire Cat smile on his face.

“A drive-in?” Castiel asked as he pulled into the line for tickets.

“This is one of the best theaters ever,” Dean explained with an excited delight that revealed he was introducing Castiel to something amazing.  
“You’ll love it. I promise you that.”

Castiel nodded, waited in line for a bit, then paid for the tickets, and drove into the lot. He parked his Fiat in the center of the second row, went about setting up the speaker, and waited for the movie to start.

“We should be in my car,” Dean mumbled as he tried to get comfortable in the seat. “We could stretch out on the hood, look up at the stars, and just enjoy.”

“Perhaps we can do that,” Castiel admitted, “the next time we do this.”

“You would want to do this with me again?” Dean sounded somewhat surprised at that like he didn’t believe that after all the fuss, Cass would want to come to a drive in again.

“This is the first date I’ve been on in years,” Castiel admitted with a slight blush. “If you haven’t figured it out with what I do, I have to be really careful about touching people. Hugging, kissing, sex, anything with any kind of skin to skin contact, involves more steps than I care to think about.”

“Wait, you can’t touch anyone?” Dean knew that would drive him insane.

“I can if I’m careful,” Castiel explained as he leaned back in his seat. “I have to shut down the implants which can be a painful process, swallow down pills which makes me feel sick, so when there is contact, there isn’t a risk of movement. And the layers, high collars, gloves, staying out of crowds and public places, that’s so accidental, casual contact doesn’t happen.”

“That sucks,” Dean scoffed.

“Not really,” Castiel shrugged, “I just have to be careful. No big deal.”

“Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself,” Dean remarked before he turned toward the screen.

“Maybe I am,” Castiel eased his seat back, “but this is my life.”

The movie started a few seconds later and for a bit the car dropped into a comfortable silence. About fifteen minutes in, the pair started making little comments about the ridiculous plot, the obvious zippers on the costumes, several exposed wires, and at one point, Dean pointed out that one character had been killed and the actor reused a few minutes later for another part.

“This is a horrible movie,” Castiel laughed after another glaring mistake.

“Who cares?” Dean teased as a giant bird swooped down to pick up what was supposed to be a human but really looked like a poorly constructed scarecrow. “This is hilarious!”

“It’s not supposed to be funny,” Castiel wasn’t sure if he would have enjoyed such a disaster of a film if Dean hadn’t been there. He hadn’t had this fun much in a very long time and he enjoyed just having the company of another person that wasn’t associated with the hopsital.

“At least you’re having a good time,” Dean added.

“I am,” Castiel answered, but he wasn’t sure if he really needed to say it. He was sure that Dean already knew exactly what he thought.

If he could have, Dean would have reached over and kissed Castiel. Instead he stored the thought away and the next time, they were together, Dean was going to treat Castiel to some earth shattering lip action. He realized that he cared a great deal for this man and it wasn’t just because Dean’s neural pattern was stored in his head. He wanted Cass to meet Sam and Bobby, show the doctor what it was like to cut loose every once and a while, and just enjoy the other’s company. He needed to take Castiel on vacation somewhere sunny and warm until the paleness turned into a sun-kissed golden. And he would, just as soon as it was safe for him to get a new body without someone trying to kill him again, or worse, try and kill Castiel.

He had seen enough death on the battle field and then again during the experiment. Dean was tired of losing the people around him and while he hadn’t known Castiel long, he just didn’t want to think about burying another person.

“You’re deep in thought,” Castiel’s voice cut through Dean’s musings quickly and the soldier turned in his seat.

“I was thinking about what it would be like to see you in a bathing suit,” Dean covered his morbid thoughts with a slightly sexual grin, “and  
what’s it going to be like when you meet Sam and Bobby.”

Castiel’s eyes went a bit wide before a confused grin crossed his face. “A bathing suit? Why? And what made you think of a bathing suit in the same process with your brother and uncle?”

“I wanted to take Sam on a massive road trip,” Dean explained before he glanced at the screen, “when I finished up this rotation and had the time. Now I want to bring you along.”

“Do you think Sam would mind?” Castiel asked while the movie played in the background.

“I don’t think so,” Dean answered before he looked around at the other cars in the theater. He saw several couples, young, old, straight, and  
gay taking advantage of the privacy of a car and smirked.

“They look happy,” Castiel smiled as he looked over at the couples.

“Think they had a lot of years together?”

“I would like to think so,” Castiel offered before he brought his hand up to touch Dean only to pull back at the last second remembering Dean wasn’t really there.

“We’ll fix that soon,” Dean admitted with a slight twist of his lips, “and when you wouldn’t have to worry about it. You’ll be able to touch me any time you want, any where you want.”

Castiel let out a bit of a chuckle before his mouth formed a wide, happy grin. “Why do I have this odd feeling that when you get a body, my bed is going to become one of your most preferred spots?”

“Because I like your bed now,” Dean answered with a sly gin.

“Movie’s over,” Castiel remarked as the movie screen faded to black then the credits rolled. “I think we should head back now.”

“Okay,” Dean nodded the earlier heaviness weighting his mind gone for now. He had a wonderful time with Castiel and even though the current predicament kept them physically apart, this had been some of most fun he had in years. And when Cass pulled out of the theater lot about ten minutes later, Dean decided they should skip the Road House and go back home because he had something in mind for Castiel.


	15. Chapter 13:  Pituitary Gland

Two days after the official first date, Castiel met Dean’s family.

“Sam!” Castiel called out as a very tall man, with shoulder length, meduim brown hair, walked passed with a large blue and white duffle bag tossed over his shoulder. “Sam Winchester!” He waved hoping to get the man’s attention.

Dean smiled at Castiel’s side when his brother turned around, spotted the doctor, then returned the wave. Sam was here and between the doctor’s experience, his brother’s determination, and Bobby’s ingenuity, he was sure that every thing would turn out in the end.

“Doctor Novak?” Sam questioned as he approached the man in a tan trench coat.

“Hello, Sam,” Castiel greeted before he extended his gloved hand, “it’s nice to finally meet you in person. Dean has told me much about you.”  
“Where’s Bobby?” Dean asked as he looked around the bustling terminal trying to find his uncle. He was about to repeat the question when he remembered that Sam couldn’t see or hear him. This whole not having a body but being aware of the surrounding world, was already older than stale bread and dirt. However, Dean knew that he couldn’t rush; that he had to put up with some road blocks and speed bumps if he didn’t want to give Henricksen a chance to find out he was still around. He and Cass were safe as long as Victor wasn’t circling. Dean wouldn’t, couldn’t risk anyone’s safety.

“Dean’s asking about Bobby,” Castiel explained.

“Right here,” an older man, with a reddish brown and gray beard, and a trucker hat on his head greeted with a pat of his plaid button up. “Needed a minute to get my bags,” he explained with a slight head motion to the large, upright, rolling suitcase he pulled behind him.

Dean watched as the three men walked through the airport to the rental car stations making sure he surveyed the crowd as he did. So far, no one appeared to be tailing the men but Dean wasn’t taking a chance. Dean thought that maybe he should have gotten the Impala for this since there was no way Sam, Bobby, the luggage, and Castiel would fit into the Fiat.

“A Toyota? Really, Sam?” Dean groaned when his brother followed the rental agent out to the lot to a blue Toyota.

Castiel shot Dean a somewhat dirty look, basically telling the soldier to leave it alone for right now then turned his attention to Sam. “Would you like to follow me to my apartment?”

Sam shook his head while he loaded Bobby’s suitcase into the trunk. “We have a hotel room. I wasn’t sure what kind of situation this would be and figured that it would be best for space.”

“I can follow you to the hotel then,” Castiel stated.

Once inside the room, Sam tossed his duffle on the bed and didn’t bother to unpack. He needed to know what was going on with his brother and once the door was closed, they could talk.

“Dean’s really in your head?” Sam asked. “And he’s okay in there?”

Castiel nodded before he sat down on at the small table. “Dean’s in here and for now, it’s good.”

“For now?” Sam wasn’t sure how he felt about this. It was difficult enough to hear the news about the break in and Dean’s death, but now it appeared that Dean was alive.

“Sam, no one has done this before,” Castiel explained to the other men. They needed to know this was untested territory and while everything was going well so far, it could go very wrong very fast. “We have to be create a new body for Dean and when that happens…”

“Dean will have his pattern downloaded into that body,” Sam finished with a sense of relief and a wave of worry.

“Yes,” Castiel answered with a slight nod, “while this is a first-of-its-kind development, I can assure you that we are trying our hardest to bring Dean back physically. Caution is needed though since no one knows what the military might do if they found out about Dean.”

“Do you need some DNA sample from me?” Sam asked, looking uncomfortable at the idea. He would do anything for Dean but the idea of Dean's personality in a clone of his body freaked him out.

“No,” Castiel shook his head, glancing over to Dean who stood at his brother’s side, looking worried about something, “it’s best if we use Dean’s DNA. The memories and acclimation is easy when the patient has an exact copy of their original body.”

“I read about that,” Bobby spoke up for the first time since they entered the room. The older man appeared to be handling the news quite well. “People couldn’t get use to the new bodies and several went insane.”

“After the fifth subject experienced an array of severe mental disorders, the protocols were changed. A patient would be moved into an exact copy and no one has experienced a mental disorder since.” Castiel hoped that the news would calm any linger doubts and worry the family had.

“Dean was some kind of experiment, wasn’t he?” Sam didn’t know what exactly happened to Dean during his time in the military and after Dean’s death, it seemed that he would never have any answers. Now he had a chance. “What happened to him?”

Castiel looked over at Dean. This wasn’t Castiel’s place to tell.

“Tell them,” Dean stated quietly, though no one but Cass could hear him.

“He was an experiment under a General Victor Henricksen. I’m not sure what - I don’t think Dean even knows - but something happened and it was big enough to end the experiment and destroy all the evidence,” Castiel explained solemnly. “Thanks to a hacker, I found out that all the subjects were killed in ways that made it look like accidents. In Dean’s case, a home invasion gone wrong.”

“So Dean’s just a voice in your head?” Sam asked trying to beat down the intense emotion that warred through his body. He wanted to get his hands on this Henricksen guy and rip out his throat. Dean’s blood was on his hands and even though Dean’s personality was still around, it wasn’t the same.

“I can see him,” Castiel answered with a slight nod. “It was part of his experiment.”

“Does he have those implants or whatever they put in your brain?” Bobby questioned as he looked around the room for a few seconds. “Can  
we tell us?”

Castiel glanced to Dean. He had no idea what happened to the soldier during the experiment. They hadn’t talked about it.

“No implants,” Dean answered with a long sigh.

“He doesn’t have any,” Castiel answered Bobby’s question and didn’t try to get more out of Dean.

“Did Dean know his killer?” Sam asked hesitantly.

“No,” Castiel didn’t know what to say after that. An uncomfortable tension hung in the air and he had no idea what to do about it. He was in this room with two men he didn’t know and they didn’t know him.

“Dude, change the subject to something else,” Dean hissed at Castiel when he saw the somber expressions on their faces. “Get Sammy to tell you about the time he tried to kiss a girl and she dropped him in a mud puddle.”

“You tried to kiss a girl and fell in a mud puddle?” Castiel looked confused and slightly uncomfortable about this entire situation.

Bobby snorted at the remark while Sam huffed and glared. The older man covered his mouth with his hand, not wanting to add to Sam’s embarassment.

 

“Dean, you promised never to mention that!” Sam crossed his arms over his chest and glowered around, hoping the look hit Dean.

“He’s over there by the lamp,” Castiel pointed in the general direction.

“Stand in front of me, Dean,” Sam exclaimed, wanting to yell at his brother but he wanted to make sure he wouldn’t be ignored either.

“Tell him I’m not letting him yell at me,” Dean explained to Castiel without moving from beside the lamp.

“He says he’s not letting you yell at him,” Castiel played telephone between the two brothers before he rolled his eyes. “Dean, you do realize that as soon as you’re physical again, he’s going to yell at you for not letting him yell at you.”

“He’s not going to yell at me,” Dean remarked at the same time Sam stated, “he’s right you know.”

Dean’s jaw dropped and this look of complete shock and surprise crossed his face. Sam would yell at him? Really? And Cass picked that up so easily?

Castiel clamped his hand over his mouth but not before a few deep chuckles escaped. Dean shot him a glare and he returned a slight shrug. “Your face is priceless right now,” he teased after he eased his hand away from his mouth.

“Does he normally look like one of those waify, frightened, screaming, girls in the horror movies when he’s surprised?” Castiel asked Sam.

Sam smirked before he nodded. “That’s Dean’s face all right. And I’m willing to bet now he’s glaring at the both of us.”

“He’s glaring at you,” Castiel answered with another shrug, “and he’s trying to get me to shut up and stop talking.”

“Order food, Cass,” Dean called out before he walked around to the other side of the desk and sat down next to the doctor, “just order pizza and stop talking about me.”

“Did you happen to eat on the trip?” Castiel asked without mentioning that it was Dean’s idea.

“Air line food sucks,” Bobby huffed as he looked over at Sam, “and he doesn’t trust airport food.”

“It’s all delivered on the same truck,” Sam announced easily, “and it’s over priced.”

“There are some very good pizza places around here,” Castiel answered with ease. “We could order in if you would like to rest, but I believe a few are in walking distance.”

“Pizza’s good with me,” Bobby admitted.

Sam nodded in agreement and without further ado, Castiel went about ordering pizza for the three men. They chatted for a bit while they waited for the food then ate when it arrived. Castiel stayed at the hotel for several hours, listening as Sam and Bobby told stories of Dean’s childhood.

“I did not do that!” Dean shouted at one particularly embarrassing story involving a circling vulture and a seven year old, crying, wailing Dean. “I did not cry!”

“He was so terrified the bird would snatch him up,” Bobby continued, completely oblivious to Dean’s outburst, “so Mary carried him out to the car.”

Castiel just smiled and listened, knowing he could ask Dean later. He left the hotel after midnight with arrangements to show the men around the city the next day.

“Your family is very nice,” Castiel talked as he drove, Dean appearing in the passenger seat. “I’m glad they are here for you.”

“They like you,” Dean offered.

“I’m glad,” Castiel nodded as he turned onto his street, “having family around for this helps. It’s easy to process and they offer comfort.”

“And embarrassment,” Dean grumbled with his arms over his chest, sulking in the seat, “all those stories.”

“I liked the stories,” Castiel admitted as he pulled into the parking lot of his building. “I got a glimpse of your childhood.”

Dean sighed heavily before he shook his head. He didn’t like being embarrassed in front of Castiel.

“Dean,” Castiel parked his car in the spot at the end of the middle row and turned off the car, “I liked finding out about you. I can only imagine what it will be like when the four of us can have conversations without me playing telephone.”

“It would be nice to smack Sam in the back of the head when he acts up,” Dean grinned happily as they got out of the car. “And I can return the favor.”

“Are you going to tell me embarrassing stories about Sam now?” Castiel had a distinctive worried expression on his face as they walked to his apartment. “Because I will say that I do not want to spend the rest of the night listening to you try to turn Sam red when he’s not here.”

Dean chuckled before a very naughty look crossed his face. “I would rather spend the rest of the night in your dreams having sex until you’re covered…”

“Dean!” Castiel’s eyes were wide and his jaw dropped at that.

“What?” Dean smirked as they made their way up the stairs to the apartment. He already had a wonderful night planned for Cass and once the doctor was asleep, he planned on making sure Castiel woke up pleased, pleasured, and incredibly sensitive.

“Why don’t I like that expression?” Castiel remarked as he unlocked the door. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing you won’t enjoy,” Dean coolly answered with a seductive half smirk.

“Dean,” Castiel cautioned as he walked into his apartment with Dean at his side, “with your family here, we should focus building you a new body. I’m sure they want to see you soon.”

Dean smiled before he nodded. “It would be nice to hug Sam again,” he admitted as the pair made their way to Castiel’s bedroom, “and talk to Bobby.”

“I’m going for a shower,” Castiel stated once they were behind the closed door. “Start thinking of a way to get your body built,” he added as he made his way into the bathroom, stripping out of his clothes as he moved.

Dean was stretched out on the bed looking like he belonged there when Castiel came out of the bathroom. He turned his head and his face lit up at the sight of Castiel with only a towel around his waist. “I do enjoy the show,” he teased.

“You are very sure of yourself,” Castiel commented as he walked over to his dresser, opened a few drawers, pulled out the clothing he needed, and dressed for bed. He slid under the covers before be turned to Dean. “So do you have any idea of how we can get you into a body?”

“I don’t know if there’s anything left at my apartment but I figured it’s a good place to start.” Dean shrugged as he looked over at Castiel. “I get that you need a DNA sample, but how does it work? Like, is the process how they made the blue people on the Avatar movie? Is there some giant test tube and the new body is grown in there?”

“No,” Castiel shook his head with a bit of a chuckle, “not a giant test tube. The bodies are grown in an artificate womb. I’m sure you know the  
process for human gestation. It’s the same, only instead of a baby that has to grow and mature, you get a body that’s at the exact point it is now.”

“Well that’s good,” Dean smirked as he shifted on the bed a bit, knowing Castiel would sleep soon, “because it would suck for me to be a little kid when I want you.”

Castiel yawned before he got comfortable. “You can’t stick adult memories into a child’s mind. The pathways aren’t the same and the brain would reject any attempt of movement.”

“Could you do one little favor for me when you guys remake my body?” Dean asked watching Castiel’s face as sleep began to fall over his face. “Make my penis the perfect size for you.” He finished just as Castiel’s eyes drifted closed.


	16. Chapter 14:   Pineal Gland

“Really?” Castiel knew he was in a dream because he was on Dean’s bed with the soldier over him. “A penis job? That’s what you want?”

He had to smile at the conversation though because he knew that if he were awake, Castiel would not be talking about penis jobs with another man.

Dean laughed before he eased Castiel’s legs apart very gently while he settled in between them as he leaned down and kissed the doctor. “I want to make sure my future boyfriend will be very happy with me.” He propped himself up on his elbows, letting their eyes meet and a slight smile cross his face.

Castiel’s hands came up around Dean’s waist and when his palms touched Dean’s back, he paused. Dean’s skin didn’t feel warm or textured like it should and it threw him. Something was going on here and he didn’t like it. He pulled his hands back as if he had been burned, and stared up wide eyed at Dean, before scrambling away.

“We can’t do this,” he gasped, feeling bile rise in his throat. “You’re not. You’re in. We can’t do this, not like this. I’m asleep right now. You’re a dream. Not real and I want it to be real.” He had met Dean’s family, heard the stories of the soldier’s childhood and for that reason, hot dream sex just wouldn’t be enough anymore.

Dean sat back then on his haunches. “Okay.” He gave Castiel his space. “We won’t do anything.”

Castiel knew what was going on in his head now. His mind realized that this was just a dream and couldn’t allow Castiel to continue living in a sleeping world. He had the ability to make Dean a part of the physical world again. “You need a body,” he explained before he raised his hand to touch Dean’s shoulder, only to pull it back.

“I know, Cass,” Dean offered with a solemn expression. “I want my body back. Dying when I did was not in my plans.” He wanted his body back just as much as Castiel wanted him to have a body. However, he didn’t want to run the risk of Henricksen finding out about Dean being in Castiel’s brain.

“How did it happen really?” Castiel asked, pulling the blankets over his legs. “How did you die?” Why was he doing this to myself? Why couldn’t he just close his eyes, take a breath, and let himself get lost in the sensation that Dean drug out of his body? This should not be complicated.

“Guy was in my apartment when I got there,” Dean explained evenly with a far off look in his eyes. “Shot me in the chest before I could reach for a weapon.”

“Why didn’t I see that?” Castiel asked with a slight tilt of his head. “I mean, I saw what happened to you in the desert, but I didn’t see what happened to you then.”

“You weren’t supposed to see about the desert,” Dean stated once again with a heavy sigh. He lay down on top of the covers and propped his head up on his hand. “I don’t want you to think I have PTSD or something like that.”

“You’re defensive,” Castiel remarked as he studied Dean. Since the man was living in his head, he figured he should at least know the guy better.

“I tell someone I’m in the Army and the immediate conclusion is that I have PTSD,” Dean grumbled. “I don’t have flashbacks. I don’t feel detached and I remember all about the event. And if you start pyscho analyzing me,” Dean poked Cass in the chest, “I’m going to give you a massive headache.” 

Castiel chuckled then lifted his hands in surrender. “I promise not to analyze you. I move the neural pathways. Analysis is someone else.”

“Good,” Dean settled in next to Cass on the bed. “This is nice. Talking like this.”

Castiel nodded before he admitted. “Yes this is nice. Being in your studio was nice as well.”

Dean grinned before he reached over and traced his thumb over Castiel’s pointer finger. “I’ll show it to you when this is over,” he explained.

Castiel nodded with a bit of a smile. “I would like to see it.”

“Will you let me draw you?” Dean asked.

“Yes,” Castiel answered with a smile. “Did an artist become a soldier or was it the other way around?” He wrapped his hand around Dean’s  
finger.

“I’ve been drawing since I was a kid,” Dean answered, playing with Castiel’s fingers, “and when I was a teenager, I started spray painting the sides of buildings. Got caught one too many times and my dad signed me up for military school.” He smiled before he draped an arm over Castiel’s body. “I liked it enough that I joined after graduation. Kept drawing when I could.”

Castiel let out a heavy sigh before flopped down on Dean’s bed. He kept his eyes on the mural trying to focus on all the intricate details. “How did you do this?” He asked pointing up to the creation. “Or is it not real?”

Dean rolled onto his back before he turned his head. “It’s real. It’s above my bed in my apartment.”

“How in the world?” Castiel began only to have Dean slid an arm under his back and pulled his close. “What are you doing?”

“Explaining,” Dean answered with a bit of a devilish smirk, “first you have to prep your surface, in my case, the ceiling above the bed. That involved ladders, buckets of paint, brushes, drop clothe, and a lot of ventitalation. After that you have to sketch out what you want up there and then figure out how to take it from paper to piece. For me, that involved charcoal, more ladders, a very steady hand, a lot of time. After the initial sketch, there’s a process of overlaying the black lines, thickening them, so you can see what you’re doing.”

“Dean, I don’t need a play by play,” Castiel admitted. “I’m sure it was just as complex as trying to paint the Sistine Chapel.”

“Was that a joke?”

“Yes, that was a joke,” Castiel gave a little half grin, “it’s beautiful, Dean. I like it.” Before he could really think, he tilted his head and slowly kissed Dean’s lips.

“What was that for?” Dean asked when Castiel finally pulled away. “Not that I’m complaining but you weren’t too happy with me earlier.”

Castiel placed his head on Dean’s shoulder before he breathed in deep. He was surprised when the scent of just washed cotton sheets, fresh cut grass, and some kind of mint filled his nose. “When you were talking about your artwork, you were so passionate. These little lines appeared around your mouth and made you look younger. Your voice, it changed. It was lighter.”

Dean traced his finger down the center of Castiel’s neck and chest before stopped and circled it over the heart spot. “Passsionate? Cass, you really know how to make a guy feel good.” There was a teasing glint in his voice as he slowly traced his eyes down the doctor’s body.

Castiel smirked then before he pushed gently on Dean’s shoulders then slid his leg over Dean’s hips. He smiled down at the soldier before he bent forward and kissed Dean again. “I think I’m starting to like you, Mr. Winchester.”

Dean looked up at that before he kissed Cass one more time. “You’re going to have to wake up now,” he whispered into the doctor’s ear.

Castiel stared up at Dean, confused, before he blinked and then he was in his bedroom with Alfie shaking his shoulder.

“Thank God!” The younger man shouted when Castiel finally opened his eyes. “You weren’t waking up and I thought something was wrong.”  
Castiel rubbed his eyes before he propped himself up on his elbows. “I’m fine, Alfie,” he grumbled. “What’s wrong?”

“The military showed up at the hospital again,” Alfie explained, sitting down on the edge of Castiel’s bed, “and they were looking for you. I think you’re in trouble, Castiel. Big trouble but no one is talking.”

Castiel sat up with a confused look on his face. He narrowed his eyes and scrunched his nose at the words. “I don’t know what they could be after. I underwent their tests and apparently all came back clear.”

Alfie shook his head unsure of what to say. “I think you should leave. Get out of the city and away from the mess.”

“I’ve been out of the city enough in the past few weeks,” Castiel rubbed his hand over his forehead before he glanced over to the foot of the bed and saw Dean standing there. “I don’t want to be running away from all this.”

“Okay,” Alfie patted Castiel’s leg before he stood up, “just be careful.”

“Alfie,” Castiel called out before the young man left his room, “I think you should go out to the cabin this weekend. If there is some trouble, I want to make sure you’re not caught in the crossfire. Go out to the cabin with someone. I’m sure you could find someone.”

“Could I bring a girl?” Alfie asked shyly with a slight grin. He had someone in mind but he didn’t want to bring her along if Castiel would mind.  
“That would be fine,” Castiel answered with a small smile. “I would like to know who this person would be.”

“You remember Risa from Ortho?” Alfie questioned before he looked up at Castiel. “She’s really nice and we’ve gone out a few times. I think she would like it.”

“She seems nice,” Castiel admitted before he made himself get out of bed. “You’ll have to relight the pilot light on the water heater.”

“Thanks, Castiel,” Alfie smiled so happily. “I appreciate this.” He walked out at that, leaving Castiel alone with the man in his head.

“You know, you look really good under those covers,” Dean smirked before he climbed up on the foot of the bed. “You looked even better under mine.”

“Dean,” Castiel chastitied with a roll of his eyes, “now is not the time. We need to get you a body and out of my head.”

Dean crawled up Castiel’s body with a seductive grin on his face and eyes full of mirth. “Getting me out of your head is not going to get me out of your bed.”

Castiel’s eyes went wide and he gathered the covers around his body like a shield. “I am not a...”

Dean shifted on the bed. “Dude, I like your bed a lot,” he grinned before he got very comfortable right next to Cass. He tilted his neck to the side and just kept his eyes on the other man. “I can’t wait to feel it with my body.”

Castiel smiled but didn’t reply. Instead he took a deep breath, closed his eyes then slowly let it out. He took in another deep breath before he opened his eyes. Dean was still at his side, sparwled out and looking perfect. Physical attraction was easy, Castiel knew that, and Dean was an attractive man.

Castiel opened his mouth to ask his next question when his stomach growled quite loudly and he covered his belly with his hands looking somewhat embarrassed and slightly shy.

Dean grinned before he rubbed his own belly. “Time for you to get some food.” He thought about something for a minute then smirked. “How would you feel about a burger and a beer?”

“I could go for that,” Castiel admitted as he propped himself up on his elbows. “Any place in mind?”

“There’s this little place down on the shore,” Dean began, thinking of his favorite burger joint, “serves the best burgers. Homemade, thick, juicy, I don’t know what they put in them, but the taste, I miss that.”

“Tell me how to get there and I’ll go,” Castiel offered as he slid out of the bed and pulled on a pair of jeans he’d tossed over the foot of the bed.


	17. Chapter 15:  Midbrain

“Isn’t that the best?” Dean asked from the opposite side of the booth, pointing to the burger and the cold beer. “You should have gotten the onion rings and potato skins as well. Dip the skins in nacho cheese and the rings in ranch dressing and you have heaven.”

Cass nodded before he adjusted the hands free ear piece. “You have the worst diet. Deep fried foods increase cholestrol, the risks of heart attack, and all sorts of heart disease. You need to eat some vegetables.”

Dean rolled his eyes at the medical advice before he pointed to the burger. “There’s lettuce on that and pickles.”

Castiel didn’t reply to that and instead just ate the rest of his burger. When he was finished, he paid the check, and walked out of the diner with Dean at his side.

“Let’s go to my place,” Dean suggested as they walked down the street. “I want to see how it looks and if there’s anything left to help.”

“Sure,” Castiel followed Dean when the man turned left. They walked a few blocks before making another turn, then another few blocks and they arrived at cream colored, brick building. “Okay, this doesn’t look like an apartment building.”

“Because it’s not, and I need to borrow your body for this part.” and with that, Dean disappeared into Castiel’s head.

“Needed your body for this,” Dean explained before he flexed Castiel’s hands, “Sorry about this. Promise I’ll take good care of you.”

Dean walked around to the back of the building, jumped up and grabbed the fire escape ladder, then pulled it to the ground flinching at the sound of metal hitting cement. He climbed up the ladder carefully, trying to remember which rungs spun and which ones were screwed in tight, then dumped out the flower box on the window ledge. After he ran his hand through the potting soil to break up the clumps, he fished out silver car key wrapped in plastic to protect it from the dirt. He tucked the key into his pocket then climbed down the ladder before he pushed it back into place.

Dean walked around to the side of the building and stopped at the rolling metal door with a key pad on the side. He typed in a code before he stepped back and watched the door lift. When there was enough room, he ducked under and stepped into what appeared to be a private garage. Dean smiled at the sight of his ’67 black Impala, kept in immaculate condition, parked in the middle of the garage.

“We are going for a drive, Cass,” Dean remarked as he walked over to the car, unlocked it, then opened the door, before he slid into the driver’s seat.

Dean stuck the key in the ignition and while he so badly wanted to run his hand over the soft leather, it wouldn’t be the same. He was in a borrowed body and until he got one of his own, he didn’t want to overuse someone else. Dean turned the key and put the car in gear before he pulled out of the garage. He waited until the door rolled closed before he pulled away from the building.

Dean drove to a small apartment building just outside the city limits. He drove around the block twice before he parked the Impala behind the building. He cased out the place for a few minutes, making sure no one suspicious was around, before he got out of the car. Dean used the maintenance entrance in the back to get into the building.

Dean made his way down a narrow hallway before he walked up a flight of stairs. He found his apartment, yellow police tape still over the door, and sighed. He looked around the hallway before he ducked under the tape, jimmied the lock and opened the door.

“Okay, Cass, back to you,” Dean stood in his apartment next to the couch while Castiel closed the door.

“Did you have to do that?” The doctor rubbed his temples, easing the headache. “You could have just told me what to do.” He looked around the studio apartment and bit his lower lip. Everything looked trashed.

“No one drives my car,” Dean explained easily as he walked around the place. His couch had been flipped over, the back and cushions slit open and the stuffing removed. The tv laid bust on the floor along side his computer. His movie collection had been completely thrown about the room along with his cds and cassette tapes. His easels were tipped over and the canvases ripped, torn, or slashed. “At least they didn’t torch the place,” Dean grumbled while he looked around for salvagable items.

“I can take some of your things home if you would like,” Castiel offered as he stepped around a broken picture frame, “so you don’t have to worry.”

Dean gave a small, sad, slight smile before he nodded. “That would be nice,” he whispered as he moved around the room. A few times he stopped, bent down to pick something up, only to stop himself when he realized he couldn’t touch.

“Where do you want me to start?” Castiel questioned as he moved toward the other man. He looked around for a box or something to carry Dean’s stuff.

“My duffle is under the bed,” Dean explained, walking toward the double bed in the back corner of the room. “Take as many of the photos as  
you can. The canvases are a lost cause but I don’t think they got the sketch books. Those are in the bottom drawer of the dresser.”

Cass nodded before he walked about the room, carefully picking up broken picture frames, removing the photos inside, then stacking them together. He found a ratty shoelace and used it to tie the photos into a bundle before he moved to the dresser. The sketch pads hadn’t been moved and Cass took those out of the drawer. He put them on the bed, then dug under the frame and found the duffle. He packed the pads at the bottom before he looked around the apartment for anything else.

Castiel stood in the apartment with a military watch, Dean’s dress blues, several cassette tapes, and the photos in the duffle on his shoulder. “I can take more,” he offered as he looked around the room.

“No, that’s enough for now,” Dean sighed with his eyes on the destroyed artwork. “The rest of it is replaceable.”

“I can use my phone take a bunch of pictures so you can redo them.”

“No,” Dean shook his head before he waved off the other man, “No artist does that. I’ll just paint something new.” He tried to sound okay with it but he wasn’t doing a good job.

“Body,” Castiel stated suddenly, “we need samples of your DNA if you want a body.”

Dean knew exactly why Castiel brought that up right now and he nodded. “Bathroom,” he stated and waved for Castiel to follow.  
Castiel picked up Dean’s gray toothbrush, a hairbrush, and a razor before he dropped him in a plastic bag then put them in the duffle. He wasn’t sure if that would be enough, but at least it was a start.

Dean glanced around his place then looked over at Cass, who had a duffle full of his belongings. His most prized possessions were in that bag, and as long as he had those items, Dean could survive. The doctor even remembered to grab Dean’s toothbrush, hairbrush, and a razor for trace DNA. Dean owed Castiel so much that he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to repay.

“I should…Look, I shouldn’t,” Dean fumbled over his words while he looked down at his feet. “I am sorry I got you into this crap. You’re a doctor, not a soldier, and you shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel smiled understanding that Dean was trying to say ‘thank you’ even if the soldier couldn’t get the words out. “Now I think we should leave.”

Dean looked up at Cass then nodded. He blinked out of sight and back into the doctor’s head. He flexed Castiel’s hands before he shifted the duffle higher onto his shoulder and walked out of the apartment.

Dean made his way back to the Impala, put his duffle in the trunk, then drove back to Castiel’s apartment. He parked two blocks away from Cass’ building before he got out the car, picked up the duffle then took a deep breath and appeared in front of Castiel.

Castiel leaned against the car for a moment, rubbing his temples before he picked up the duffle. “You should have gone straight to the hospital,” he stated as he walked down the block. “We need to get this to the lab and see if there’s enough trace DNA to start building you a new body.”


	18. Chapter 16:  Tectum

Castiel slipped into the ER entrance, appearing to be with a young woman on a stretcher. He peeled off once the woman went through the swinging double doors and made his way over to the emergency stairwell. He made sure no one was watching before he pushed on the door and slid inside. Cass let out a relieved breath before he started up the stairs. He needed to get to the Transitions floor before the military got him. He took the steps two at a time before he reached the fifth floor and heard voices coming from the floor above. Since he didn’t want to get caught, he scrambled out the stairwell. He hurried down the hallway hoping no one stopped him.

“Castiel, what are you doing here?” Alfie asked, carrying a tray of dirty surgical instruments in his hands. “I thought you were off.”

“I am,” Castiel answered quickly before he moved passed Alfie. “Just go back to work, Alfie. I’m sure Ruby will be upset with you if you don’t get the instruments cleaned and sterilized.”

Alfie nodded before he moved toward the autoclave.

Castiel managed to get passed the nurses’ station and into the elevator without any more interruptions. He punched the button for the Transition floor and noticed his fingers shook. He opened and closed his hand a few times but the tremors didn’t stop. Cass held out both hands and noticed they both shook ominously.

“Fuck!” Dean swore as he appeared at Castiel’s side with a worried, sorrowful look on his face. “Cass, that’s not good.”

“I figured that,” Castiel remarked before he clasped his hands together. “This is you.” It wasn’t a question, but it wasn’t an accusing statement either. It was a simple fact.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” Dean explained as he stood next to doctor. “I think you need a doctor.”

“No joke,” Castiel grumbled as he clamped his eyes shut and tried to fight off the massive headache that felt like elephants stomping on his head. “I’ll get a scan while I’m here.”

“I don’t think you need a scan, Cass,” Dean explained while the elevator moved upward.

“So you’re a doctor now?” Castiel hissed at the man in his head. “Because unless you know what you’re doing, I suggest you keep your mouth shut.”

“Damn it, Cass,” Dean recoiled like the other man just punched him. “I think it might have something to do with me being in your head. I’ve been in there a few weeks now.”

“You’re doing this to me?”

“I think so,” Dean answered.

Castiel glared at Dean and grumbled. “And I can’t punch you because you’re in my head.”

“Well, when I get my body back,” Dean retorted before he stood up straight, “you can punch me. Right now, we need to get me a body and out of your head.”

Before Castiel could reply, the elevator dinged and the doors opened onto the Transition floor. He stepped out, nodded to the nurse at the station, then walked down the hallway to the lab. He hoped that Balthazar was there so he could talk to someone he trusted.

“Castiel, what are you doing here?” Balthazar asked after Castiel sank into a chair in the lab. “You look like shit.”

“I have this beautiful man in my head,” Castiel blurted without thinking too much about what exactly he was saying. “It’s the soldier that was brought in last month and he pushed himself into my head. He’s not gone. He’s still in there and unless he lets go willingly, he stays in there.”

“What the hell?” Balthazar jumped out of his chair. “You’re serious? You have to get the scans and we need to get that pattern out. Who knows what kind of damage it could cause?”

“Hey, dude,” Dean shouted at Balthazar even though the other doctor couldn’t hear him. “I’m not an ‘it’. My name is Dean.”

“Don’t call him ‘it’,” Castiel mentioned to Balthazar with his head propped on his palm and elbow propped on the armrest. “His name is Dean.”

“You called me beautiful,” Dean grinned widely when he finally realized how Castiel explained him to Balthazar.

“Yes, Dean I called you beautiful,” Castiel admitted with a slight blush and a sly glance at Dean. “Now can we please focus on getting you out of my head?”

“He’s here?” Balthazar questioned as he looked around, searching for this stranger. “Right now, and he’s talking to you?”

“Yes,” Castiel answered while he rubbed his temples, “and you need to scan me so we can see what’s going on.”

“Okay,” Balthazar agreed easily enough which Castiel took as a plus.

Castiel managed to get himself into the machine without help. Dean disappeared into Castiel’s head again so they could do the scans while Castiel settled onto the table, then gave Balthazar a thumbs up to let the other know he was ready. 

“Starting intial scan,” Balthazar stated through the intercom. “You know the drill. Don’t move and don’t talk. Tell that to the guy in your head as well.”

Since Castiel couldn’t move if he wanted the scan to work, he didn’t flip Balthazar off and instead just huffed out a heavy breath. He stayed as still as he could while the test progressed and when it was done, he smiled and eased himself off the table. Castiel glanced at Balthazar and from the look on the other doctor’s face, he knew it wasn’t good.

“How bad?” Castiel asked as he made his way to the computers.

“You need to see this,” was all Balthazar said.

When Castiel sat down at the screen, he saw the image of his brain. “I’m losing my mind,” he mumbled with his eyes glued on the screen. He pointed to several bright green spots in the blue. “That’s Dean, right there.”

Dean stood at his side a second later with a horrified expression on his face. He never meant to hurt the doctor and taking over his brain wasn’t his goal. “Cass, I’m sorry.”

“We need to get him out of you,” Balthazar exclaimed forcefully pointing to the computer screen. “Now. We could dump his pathway into the public bank and you’ll be done with him. He’s not worth this. He’s going to kill you.”

“I can’t,” Castiel admitted with tears in his eyes, “I can’t do that to him. He needs his body back.”

“No, he needs to get out of your head!” Balthazar snapped. “He was some stranger that forced himself into your head and then stayed there when we tried to get him out. He hid inside you for weeks and who knows what he made you do. He’s killing you, Castiel, by slowly taking over your brain. What happens when there’s no more blue? You’re gone, Cassie.”

“I’m not going to dump his pathway into a public bank,” Castiel hissed while he stood up and straightened his shoulders. “Someone killed him to protect a secret and if Dean’s pathway goes public, they will find it and delete it. We make him a body then I’ll do the download.”

“It won’t work,” Balthazar angrily pointed to the computer. “Look at your brain. Right now, we can remove him without damaging you but that window is closing fast. We don’t have time to find a sample of his DNA, then build a body. We don’t even know if there is a sample for him.”

“His hairbrush, toothbrush, and razor,” Castiel handed over the objects which he pulled out of his messenger bag still wrapped in plastic. “I don’t know if it will work, but we have to try. I can’t, in good conscience, download Dean’s pattern right now.”

“This is insane,” Balthazar admitted as he stared down at the items Castiel held. “You’re willing to risk everything, including your life, for a man you barely know.”

“I know it doesn’t make sense,” Castiel admitted with a glance over his shoulder to Dean. “I know you don’t understand but I have do to this. Look at what happened right after the accident. The military wasn’t here because a soldier got killed. They were here because they knew something.”

“What?” Balthazar didn’t appear all that surprised at the news. He thought the same about what happened with the military. “Castiel, do you know something?”

“Tell him, Cass,” Dean offered with a heavy sigh and his hands in his pant pockets. “We are going to need some help.”

Castiel walked over to the lab door and locked it before he motioned for Balthazar to sit down. Balthazar did, and Castiel sat in the chair right beside him. He placed Dean’s objects on the desk. “Dean Winchester was in the Army. He was a military experiment on weaponizing memory movement. It’s the reason, when we tried to download his pattern the first time, it didn’t work. They sent people to kill him, and I’m sure they think they did especially after Chuck told him we deleted the pattern.”

“He was an experiment and you want to keep him in your head?” Balthazar sounded completely distraught at the idea. “Castiel, that’s all the more reason to get him out as soon as possible.”

“Then help me get him a body,” Castiel pleaded picking up the razor. “You help me build him a body.”

“What happens if he doesn’t go?” Balthazar questioned rubbing his thumb over his knuckles nervously. “What happens if he hides in your head again after you go through another download procedure?”

“If I have my body,” Dean explained quickly, “I will go. You can download me out of you and then upload me into the body. I’ll go and you can be normal again.”

Castiel relayed the information to Balthazar, who just huffed out a breath before he picked up the tooth and hair brush. “Okay. I’ll bring these over to Kevin and see if he can use them.”

“I’ll wait right here then,” Castiel offered as he sat down in the chair. “I need to know now if it’ll be enough or not.”

“You need to speak with Dr. Shurley about this, you know,” Balthazar knew that if Chuck didn’t sign off on this, there wouldn’t be a point. “We can’t produce until the paperwork is done.”

“Okay,” Castiel nodded. “I’ll talk with Chuck after you talk to Kevin.”

Balthazar nodded before he walked out of the lab with Dean’s items.

“Do you think you can trust him?” Dean asked while he moved over to Castiel.

“We need help, Dean,” Castiel answered simply before he stood up. “And I need to go see about getting this cleared.”

“I am sorry for hurting you,” Dean admitted quietly while he looked at the doctor’s pale face.

“Make it up to me when you’re solid,” Castiel remarked before he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. He tried to think positively that the items from Dean’s apartment would have enough cells on them to build a body.

“I will,” Dean promised while they waited for Balthazar to return.

“You’re lucky,” the blonde doctor stated when he returned to the lab, “between the hair on the brush, and the saliva on the toothbrush, there’s enough. And as soon as Chuck signs off, Kevin will start.”

“Let’s go,” Castiel called over his shoulder as he walked out of the lab and made his way to administration.

“You have a second pattern in your head?” Chuck was not happy to hear about this development. “How do you still have the patient’s pattern in your mind? I saw the download.”

Castiel rubbed his temples and attempted to explain about Dean being a military experiment, and how Dean held on to Castiel’s mind during the download. He tried to convince his father that the DNA had been gathered, that Dean would willingly go into the new form, and all Chuck had to do was sign off on the procedure.

“I should call Henricksen,” Chuck picked up the phone only to have Castiel slam his hand over the receiver.

“No!” Castiel growled the word as Dean kept Castiel’s hand on the phone. “You can’t call Henricksen. If he finds out, I get turned into an experiment. Dad, just sign off on the procedure and let us handle it.”

Chuck looked at Castiel like he lost his mind. He knew that this wasn’t Cass in front of him and he wasn’t sure how to react. “I won’t call Henricksen if Dean’s out of your head by the end of the week.” He offered as he pulled his hand out from in between Castiel’s and the receiver. “If not, I’m calling him. We need to know what happened to you.”

“I know what happened to me,” Castiel glowered as he gritted his teeth, “I know how to finish it. Sign off on the procedure and we can move past this.”

Chuck didn’t look like he would agree but in the end, but he gave a heavy sigh, like he would regret this, and signed the paper work. “Tell Kevin to start now. I want hourly updates and you will be admitted to the wing until this is done.”

“I am not being….” Castiel complained only to have Chuck hold up his hand.

“No arguing with that,” Chuck snapped, effectively ending any protests. “You will be admitted and you will not argue. It sounds like you’re already having problems with the second pattern and I don’t care. We have no idea what side effects this could have and I’m not risking your health.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, but he knew he wasn’t going to win this one. “I’ll admit myself if I can go home and pack some stuff. Books, clothes, computer, things like that.”

“Someone needs to go with you,” Chuck offered.

“I live a few blocks from here,” Castiel reminded the man. “I can walk without the need of a babysitter.”

“Then you will call me when you get home,” Chuck ordered without missing a beat, “and before you leave to come back here. You will not take more than two hours to return and if you are one minute late, I will restrain you to the bed when you return. Understand?”

“I understand,” Castiel nodded with a set jaw and hard eyes. “I’ll be back soon.”


	19. Chapter 17:  Cerebral Peduncle

Castiel stood in his bedroom with an overnight bag opened on the bed and Dean’s duffle beside it. He couldn’t leave Dean’s belongings at the apartment.

“Seriously you don’t have to take my stuff,” Dean stated for the millionth time while Castiel packed several pairs of socks and underwear into the bag. “It’ll be safe here.”

“You’ll want it the second you wake up in your body.” Castiel dismissed Dean’s concern because he would take the stuff anyway. “I should have some clothes that will fit you.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Dean protested while he sat on Cass’ bed. “You don’t have to worry about me. You’re dealing with enough without having to pack clothes for me.”

“Throwing a pair of old sweat pants and a t shirt into my bag isn’t going out of my way,” Castiel replied before he did just that. “Plus, it’s not like I’m going to be able to get to your place to get your clothes.”

“I didn’t want this to happen, Cass.” Dean pleaded his case while the doctor threw clothes into his bag.

“I want to keep you with me.” The doctor admitted, letting out a long sigh. “What happens if I can’t?”

“I’m in your head, Cass,” Dean grinned. “You have to keep me.”

“After you’re out of my head,” Cass admitted as he turned his head and looked at Dean out of the corner of his eye. “When you have a body again, I want to keep you with me.”

“Like you wanna be my boyfriend?” Dean teased before he eased himself up onto his knees on the bed.

Castiel looked Dean square in the eyes before he bit his bottom lip then nodded. “Yes,” he breathed .

“Good,” Dean smirked before scooted closer to the doctor, “because I want that too.”

Castiel’s smile widened, lighting up his entire face. 

“The first thing I’m doing when I get my body back,” Dean stated with his hands just above Castiel’s hips, “is wrap you in my arms around you and throw you down on the nearest flat surface.”

“I’ll hold you to that, soldier,” Castiel purred in response.

“We’re going to be good together, Cass, I know it,” Dean offered.

“We will be,” Castiel remarked with a confident smile. It was good to know that when this was all over, when Dean returned to his body, they would still have a connection. Every Transition needed one person they could completely relax with and Castiel had yet to find that person. Now, he believed it could be Dean and he wasn’t going to lose that.

“What time do you need to be back at the hospital?” Dean asked, pulling them out of this moment and back into the reality of the situation.

“I have about another twenty minutes before we head back,” Castiel admitted before he walked over to the dresser and emptied out his underwear and sock drawer. He bent down and shoved his slippers into the bag as well.

“We should call Sam and let him know what’s going on,” Dean offered while he watched Cass packing up the last minute items.

Castiel nodded before he went into the bathroom, grabbed his toothbrush and shaving kit, and shoved them into the bag. He came back into the bedroom, picked up his phone, and started toward the door. He scrolled through his contacts and dialed Sam’s number.

“Hello, Sam,” Castiel greeted with the phone to his ear as he walked out of his apartment locking the door behind him as he left. “I’m on my way to the hospital. We are building Dean a body now and he’ll be downloaded as soon as that is finished.”

“Tell him to bring burgers,” Dean exclaimed while they walked down the stairs. “The good ones. Not the crappy ones. The good ones.”  
Castiel rolled his eyes but relayed the message. He laughed at Sam’s response but he told Dean that Sam would be bringing the requested burgers. They hit the street as Cass hung up with Sam and put his phone in his pocket. “Sam and Bobby will meet us at the hospital. They know to ask for me which should be enough.”

“I’m glad they’ll be here,” Dean stated as they walked toward the hospital. He noticed a strange vehicle and reacted.

“It’s recommended that patients have people they care about around them during the...” Castiel’s statement was cut off by a big, black, van jumping the curb in front of him, and armed, muscular, men dressed in black, jumped out of the vehicle. Before Castiel could scream for help, two men grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him onto the floor of the van. The side door slid shut and drove off.


	20. Chapter 18:  Pretectal

“Hello Doctor Novak,” Victor Henricksen’s voice greeted Castiel as he opened his eyes then slammed them shut under the harsh white light, “glad you finally decided to see reason and allow us to remove Dean Winchester’s pattern from your brain.”

“No,” Castiel went ashen at that, fearing that Henricksen finally got his way and destroyed what was left of Dean. “I didn’t consent to that! How the hell do you you find me?” He had to keep the panic down in order to save himself and Dean. He didn’t know the details and honestly, a part of him never wanted to find out but whatever happened during the experiment, Castiel wouldn’t let it happen now. 

“Of course you did,” Victor replied with a victorious smirk. “The military doesn’t perform any kind of experiments on the nation’s citizens without their consent.” He paused for a moment, taking in the sight of Doctor Novak, secured to the bed. There was no way he was getting away again and this time, Victor would made sure Dean Winchester couldn’t come back and bite him in the ass. “And you know something, the process of building a person a body takes a lot of energy. Considering there was no records of a patient getting a clone, didn’t take much to figure you were trying to pull something.”

Castiel forced his eyes open and managed to glance around the room. It was damp, run down, and dim except for the large surgical lights that shone in Castiel’s eyes, and he was sure there was mold growing on the walls. An electroshock machine, several trays of surgical equipment, and oxygen tanks, littered the room, and in the center of it all, Castiel was strapped down to an old, hard, bed.

“Dean’s not in my head,” Castiel lied. “You’re wrong.” He wasn’t a very good liar at the best of times but in this moment, Castiel hoped he could pull the deception off. He needed to get himself out of this situation because there was no hope of a rescue.

“No, he’s in there,” Henricksen grinned as he leaned over Castiel and stuck his face just centimeters from Castiel’s. “I know it. You’re a doctor. You put up a bit of the fight in the van using training that you don’t have.”

Castiel pulled on the thick, leather restraints trying to get his hands free only to have the General walk over and punch him square in the face, breaking the doctor’s nose.

“Don’t try and escape, Doctor,” Victor reasoned as he wiped the blood off his knuckles. “I need to tie up the last loose end and you’re going to help me.”

“Like Hell I will,” Castiel hissed as blood poured from his nose.

“Winchester’s got you good,” Victor smirked before he stepped away from the bed and two men dressed as orderlies straight out of an insane asylumn stepped up. “Don’t worry, doctor. We’ll make you better.”

“No!” Castiel shouted as a series of electrodes were placed on different parts of his body. “You can’t do this! You have no idea!”

Victor watched the doctor struggle against the restraints. “I do know what I’m doing. One grand mal seizure will disrupt your patterns. Two grand mals will degrade them. Three will destroy them. I get rid of you and Winchester.”

“Don’t you dare!” Castiel shouted only for the words to turn into an agonized scream as the electric shock hit his system. He felt an intense cramping in his muscles before every nerve ending suddenly erupted. Castiel’s body jerked, his mouth dropped open, his back arched upward, and a violent spasm overtook his senses. Everything went black then and when Cass opened his eyes again, he knew he was in his head.

“Cass,” Dean stood at his side, leaning over the bound man, “stay with me. Don’t fall asleep right now. Sam’s on the way. Come on just stay with me a little longer.”

“How? How did you get a message to Sam?” Castiel’s vision blurred then as his head lolled to the side. “We were…”

“Before they grabbed you, I jumped into your head. Sent Sam a text. Two letters,” Dean explained as he ran his hand over Castiel’s jaw, “our secret code for when he got into trouble as kids. He’ll be here. Just hold on.”

“It hurts, Dean,” Castiel groaned feeling his muscles convulse with the electric pulses. “It hurts so much!”

Dean brushed his hand over Castiel’s sweaty forehead knowing it did nothing to take away the pain. “I know it hurts. Just focus on staying awake. Fight through the pain. Just a little while longer? For me? Sam’s coming! I know he is!” He pleaded with the doctor wishing he could suffer for the man instead. “Cass, hey, Cass. Look at me. Just look at me.”

Castiel’s body seized as he screamed awake. He was alone in the dark room having experienced the first round of Henricksen’s torture. He was covered in sweat and he smelled urine. How long had they tortured him? Why had it stopped? “Dean?” He questioned.

“I’m here, Cass,” Dean’s voice sounded far away. “I’m right here.”

“I’m tired, Dean,” Castiel admitted softly, the words difficult to form around the blood pooling in his mouth, “So tired.”

“Don’t fall asleep, again!” Dean shouted trying to keep the doctor’s attention. “Don’t close your eyes! Stay with me! Cass!” Without thinking, he reached for Castiel’s head and pressed his hands to the other’s cheeks. “You have to stay with me!” He traced his thumb over Cass’ cheeks, then looked back at the door, praying that Sam would burst through at any moment.

Castiel’s eyes lit up at the feeling of Dean’s hands against his skin. He tried to laugh only to have it come out as a choked cough. “I can feel you,” he barely managed to whisper to Dean. “I must be dreaming.” He liked the feeling of strong hands cupping his face. 

“You’re dying, Cass,” Dean forced out the words as he rubbed his thumbs over Castiel’s cheek bones. “You’re not dreaming.”

Castiel’s eyes closed for a moment before he jerked them open again and stared up at Dean. He wanted so badly to tell Dean everything, that he wanted to grow old with the soldier, that he never felt like this about anyone before, about how he didn’t regret what came to pass, but  
his mouth refused to work. There were gurgling noises, pained whimpers, but nothing like the declarations he wanted to make.

“Please, stay with me,” Dean begged with tears gathering at the bottom of his eyes. “Don’t die on me. You have to live, Cass. You have to.”  
He moved one hand down to Castiel’s neck and felt the pulse. It was weak, thready, and slow but it was still there. He needed to keep the doctor aware until help arrived. “Do not fall asleep!”

“I want to,” Castiel mumbled, the feeling of weightlessness spreading over his body, “it doesn’t hurt when I sleep. I can be with you.” He wasn’t sure if Dean could understand any of that, but he hoped Dean could.

“No, you don’t!” Dean shouted. “Body remember? The next time, we’re supposed to be together, I have a body and I put you on the nearest steady surface.” Where were Sam and Bobby? They should be here by now. Did the S.O.S. not go through? He could have sworn it worked. “Come on, Cass. Stay with me.”

“Dean,” Castiel groaned, then closed his eyes.

“Dean!” Castiel shouted when he opened his eyes and found himself in the center of a dim circle of yellow light surrounded by this inky, blackness. “Dean!” He was dead, that was the only explanation for this. He was cold, and alone, trapped in his own mind.

“Cass!” Dean’s voice broke through the darkness before the soldier appeared. He hugged Castiel without thinking, just glad that the doctor stood in front of him. “I thought I lost you.”

The darkness shifted in to Dean’s studio but the area wasn’t full of light, hope, and joy like it had been before. It was dark, and depressing, full of destroyed canvases and broken brushes and the bed had been burnt and smashed.

“What is this?” Castiel asked looking over Dean’s shoulder at the destruction. “Why is it like this?”

“My neural pattern is degrading,” Dean answered softly, placing his hands gently on Castiel’s shoulders. “I’m dying here and I’m taking you with me.”

“No!” Castiel hissed. “No, you are not dying! You don’t get to leave me!”

“Cass, it’s okay,” Dean soothed as he slowly released his grip on Castiel’s shoulders.

“No!” This time, Castiel grabbed Dean before he smashed their lips together. “It’s not okay. I can’t lose you now.”

“Cass, you can’t sustain the both of us,” Dean admitted with a self depricating smile, “I need to go. You need to live.”

“No! Not until I’m in the machine at the hospital!” Castiel pleaded, his fingers buried in the fabric of Dean’s clothing. “You are not leaving me in some warehouse, bleeding and broken, waiting for someone to show up and rescue me! Didn’t you say Sam was on the way? He’ll get here soon? Isn’t that what you told me?”

“Cass,” Dean’s voice broke at the sight of this man begging him to stay, even when it would kill him. He didn’t know when Sam would arrive. Hell, they could be loading Castiel’s body into an ambulance right now and neither one of them would know it. He wasn’t going to risk Castiel’s life, not for his own, not after he cared so much for the doctor. “It’s time for me to go.”

“No, it’s not!” Castiel shouted, even as his fingers passed through Dean. “No!” Castiel struggled to grab Dean again, but his fingers never made purchase. “Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare do this! Please!”

“Castiel,” Dean shook his head as the darkness slowly crept up behind him, “I shouldn’t have grabbed you in the first place. I have to do this.”  
“You have a fully developed body waiting for you at the hospital!” Castiel screamed as he reached for Dean. He needed to get the other man away from the approaching darkness. “We are supposed to spend weekends at your studio, making love and you drawing me. I can’t lose you.”

“Let me go, Cass,” Dean stated evenly, although there was great sense of lost and longing in his tone. “If I stay any longer, you’ll die. You need to live Cass. I need you to live.”

There was a loud explosion, then everything went white for a moment before Cass found himself standing in the desert. “Dean!” He screamed before he ran toward the sounds of gunfire. He knew where he was, what was happening, and he wasn’t going to let Dean end like this. “Dean!” He shouted again when he finally crested the large dune.

A man stood under the sun with a gun pointed at another man pinned under a military vehicle. Castiel hurried toward the gunman, praying he would make it in time. He needed to get to Dean before the man pulled the trigger. He was only a few steps away when he launched himself at the gunman, tackling the man just before he pulled the trigger.

“You are not killing him!” Castiel wailed as he pounded his fists into Dean’s attacker’s face. “You don’t get to take him from me!”

“Cass, stop!” Dean pulled the doctor off the other man as the scenery shifted again, this time to Castiel’s own apartment. “You can’t keep doing this. You’re hurting yourself!”

“I don’t care!” Castiel shouted before he twisted in Dean’s arms, balled his fists, and started hitting Dean in the chest. “Don’t you get it! I need you! I need you to be okay! To be alive when all this is over! I need to wake up and know you’re still here!”

“Cass, it’s too late!” Dean shouted back, unsure of just how to get Castiel to give up. “Even if we were in the machine right now, I’ve done too much damage! I’ve been in your head too long! Don’t you get that! You have to stop, Cass. Your implants are likely destroyed. I damaged you in terrible ways!”

“I can save you!” Castiel desperately pleaded. “Dean, I can save you!”

“No you can’t!” Dean hissed before he pulled away. “Now let me go!”

Castiel drew back like he had been shot. He saw the darkness sweeping over him and knew this time, it was truly over.


	21. Chapter 19:  Cerebral Aqueduct

A steady, even beeping sound pulled at the edges of Castiel’s mind as he slowly awoke from his slumber. He blinked several times before his vision cleared and he found himself staring up at a white tiled ceiling. He tried to bring his hand to his face only to find it impossible to move. He looked down and found his wrist restrained to the metal hospital bed frame. His mind panicking trying to will his body up believing himself to be a military prisoner. Only his body didn’t want to respond. He didn’t know what they had given him but whatever it was, it must have been a powerful sedative.

“He’s awake!” He knew that voice so well, but he couldn’t place it. He managed to lift his head which took far too much effort, and saw a flash of bright red hair leaving out the room. Red hair? Red hair, and a familiar voice? Was he? Where was he? What the hell happened?

“Wait,” he tried to call out only for the word to come out as a weak, almost inaudible, whisper. He tried to form the word again but his body didn’t want to cooperate.

“Castiel?” A male voice, Balthazar’s in fact, came from his left. Balthazar? What was Balthazar doing here? Did the military? Wait, no, not the military. He glanced down just enough to see his wrist where it was restrained. A hospital band, a familiar hospital band! He was in St. PGs. Relief washed over him. He was a patient at St. PGs that meant that someone had gotten to him. Someone found him. Now he just needed to know the rest of the story.

Castiel groaned before he tilted just enough to see his partner out of the corner of his eye. “Balthazar? What? How?” He hoped that the man could explain before he fell back asleep. He could feel a drugged slumber being to creep in on the edges of his consciousness but he didn’t want to give in until he knew what happened.

“You were brought in three days ago,” his friend explained as he pulled the chair closer to Castiel’s bed, “by Sam Winchester. You were immediately put under and underwent memory movement. Two patterns were detected, however, they were intergraded almost completely. Castiel, your implants suffered damage in the separating process.” Balthazar reached over and placed his hand on Castiel’s shoulder with a hurt, lost expression on his face. No doctor wanted to give a patient bad news and while Castiel was a patient, he was also Balthazar’s friend.  
“How bad?” He groaned feeling the drugs pulling him under. He forced himself to stay awake and focus. Damage? Balthazar mentioned something about damage. He needed to know what that meant. Had the implants destroyed his own brain tissue? Was that what Balthazar was trying to tell him? “Am I…”

“You won’t be able to move memories anymore. The second pattern overworked too many of your implants. They were destroyed.” Balthazar finished before he picked up his friend’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “You were lucky to escape with such minor damage. According to the images, the injuries should be temporary. Headaches, confusion, memory problems, and nausea should only last a few weeks. No damage to your brain tissue which everyone is grateful for. There is no way to remove the implants without damaging your brain so we have to wait and see how your body takes care of them. We think your body will dissolve them on its own.” He sighed heavily before he reached over and placed his hand on Castiel’s shoulder in a comforting, familiar way. “During the process, no matter how hard we tried, no matter what we did, your pattern kept encircling Dean’s. It was almost like he was your life line and you were a drowning man.”

“Dean?” Cass asked trying to focus on staying awake. “Did he?” He couldn’t keep his eyes open though and didn’t hear the answer.

“Cass?” Dean’s arms came around Castiel’s shoulders before he kissed the back of the doctor’s neck. “I’m glad you’ll be okay.” They were in Dean’s apartment, standing in the middle of the destruction. He didn’t want it to be like this. He wanted to see all of Dean’s artwork, to watch him sketch and paint on canvases. He wanted to stare up at the beautiful mural and have Dean explain every minute aspect of every piece he worked on. Most of all, Castiel wanted Dean.

“What happened to you?” Castiel asked as he turned around in Dean’s arms and looked up at the other man. It wasn’t the same. Dean’s eyes weren’t as bright, the freckles less noticeable, his lips not as soft and pink. It was a just a memory of Dean, not the man himself.  
Dean just shook his head with a sad smile. “Don’t think about it. Whatever you do, don’t think about me.”

“No,” Castiel shook his head unable to think about life without Dean. They had gone through so much together that the idea of not having Dean around anymore made Castiel want to panic.

“Don’t,” Dean whispered before he gently kissed Castiel, “You’re okay and that’s what matters.”

“No, it’s not,” Castiel admitted choking back the tears that threatened to spill. “I wanted to be with you. I wanted to wake up to you at my side and go to sleep with you next to me. I wanted to grow old with you.”

“Castiel?” Dean’s voice sounded broken and raw as if he was struggling to keep it together. There was an odd echo effect as well, one that Castiel hadn’t heard before.

Cass’ eyes opened again and found himself staring into beautiful, bright green eyes that danced with life, a straight nose, high cheeks dusted with perfect freckles, and a pair of lush pink lips that Castiel knew were amazingly soft.

“Dean?” Castiel sat up in his bed feeling stronger than he had the last time. It was easier to focus and he didn’t feel so tired. And he wasn’t restrained to the bed! Why had he been restrained? Wait, Dean! Dean! “Dean?” He reached up with both hands and touched Dean’s cheeks. He smiled at the warmth under his palms and he nearly let out a loud sob. “It’s really you?” Castiel kept his voice low, trying to stomp down the hope that he wasn’t dreaming and this wasn’t some injury-induced vision.

Dean placed his hands over Castiel’s, smiling as he did so. “Well, according to my brain scans, MRI, ultrasounds, and the stupid monitor that doesn’t have a mute button in my room, it’s me.”

“How?” Castiel narrowed his eyes thinking about what the every last moments he remembered. “I thought…you let go.”

“Sammy got to us in time,” Dean answered his hands moving slowly down to Castiel’s neck, letting his fingers map out the area. “I don’t know the full story. Just that Sam found us through the GPS in your phone. There were explosions and gunfire then we were rushed here. After that, the whole thing goes over my head. I’m hoping someone explains it to you so you could explain it to me.” He looked at the door before he lowered the armrest so he could sit on the edge of the bed. “I was so afraid that you wouldn’t wake up. I thought I really hurt you.”

“I can’t move memories anymore,” Castiel admitted, then reached for Dean’s arm when the soldier recoiled. He squeezed as hard as he could. “Do not try and walk away!”

“I screwed up your head!” Dean hissed. “I took your job from you!”

“No you didn’t!” Castiel pulled Dean down, grabbed his shoulders, and refused to let the other man go. “I’m alive because of you. I survived Henricksen’s torture because of you. I can walk, talk, I remember, because you were in my head, keeping me sane. No, I can’t move memories anymore, but there are several other parts of the process that are just as important.”

“You liked your job, Cass,” Dean admitted with a mournful expression. “I screwed up.”

Cass grabbed Dean’s shoulders before he pulled the soldier close, then kissed him passionately. “I’m alive. I’m not a vegetable. I’m not paralyzed.” He paused before he leaned back against the pillows, wrapped his arms around Dean, and pulled him close. “I would rather have you in my life than my job. I didn’t have a lot of people in my life. My best friend is the guy I worked with and I didn’t date. Then you came into my life, and I had something other than my job. Look I liked my job sure but I like you a lot more. I was missing out on life. Remember our date at the drive in? You were right. I was just trying to convince myself that not touching anyone was fine.”

“And I can touch people now,” Castiel admitted, before kissing the top of Dean’s head. “Transitions can’t have any kind of accidental contact with another person. Long sleeves, pants, gloves, high collars, and always being on guard. I don’t have to do that anymore. The implants are fried but that doesn’t mean I can’t do acclimations, or help build the new bodies, parts of the process that don’t need implants to work. I can teach the next generation of Transitions if I have to. I’m okay, Dean.” He laced his fingers with Dean before his other hand came around and rested on Dean’s stomach. “I can have sex without having to choke down ten pills and hoping my partner will do the same.”

“But…,” Dean started, only to have Castiel cover his mouth with his hand.

“No buts, Dean,” Castiel whispered in Dean’s ear before he tenderly nibbled on the lobe. “I’m okay with this. Believe me, I am good with this. I’m still a doctor and I can still work on the teams. I can have a life that isn’t ruled with worry, Dean. I couldn’t do that before. Don’t you get it? You saved me more than I did you.” He kissed Dean’s neck, then set his chin on Dean’s collarbone. “Don’t think about it anymore. I would rather have you, as I said before. Now would you please get in this bed? I don’t like you hovering over me.”

Dean chuckled before he did what the doctor order. He sat down on the edge careful of the I.V. in Castiel’s arm. He smiled when Castiel opened his legs before he settled in between them. Dean leaned back against Cass, taking in his warmth through the thin material of the hospital gowns. It felt so different than the times they spend in Castiel’s mind, because Dean finally had a body and could enjoy the feel of Castiel’s skin against his. He enjoyed the rise and fall of the doctor’s chest each time he breathed, and just holding Castiel’s hand felt complete.

“Dean,” Sam walked into Castiel’s room with a scowl on his face and a flustered nurse behind him, “you are not supposed to leave your room.” He looked ready to take off Dean’s head for disappearing from his hospital bed.

“I wanted to see Cass,” Dean explained with a smirk and refused to sit up straight.

“Doctor Milton told you not to move around too much,” Sam repeated the doctor’s orders before the nurse brushed passed him and over to the bed.

“Sammy, I’m fine,” Dean stated.

A nurse came in. “Sir, I need you to leave. I have to check Doctor Novak,” he stated with a heavy blush. He wasn’t completely sure if he wanted to be in the room with these two. He’d heard enough through the grape vine to know that this was a special case.

“He can stay,” Castiel explained before he squeezed Dean’s midsection. “He’s my family.” He glanced over to Sam as well. “He’s family too.”

“Bobby’s searching the hospital,” Sam offered as he slowly made for the door with a harsh look on his face. “I need to find him and tell him you didn’t run off.”

“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean called out, watching his younger brother walk out of the room. “So that was bitch face number 4, 6, and 15,” he told the doctor. “You’ll have to get use to them.”

“I plan on it,” Castiel remarked before his attention went back to the nurse. “Let’s get going.”


	22. Epilogue:  Brain

“You have no idea what you’re looking at, do you?” Dean teased as he threaded his hands around Castiel’s waist, then kissed the doctor’s neck just under the ear. “You have the most confused look on your face.” Dean had a phyiscal body for an entire year now and he still couldn’t get enough of touching Castiel. He loved the warm softness of Castiel’s palm when their fingers were threaded together.

They stood in the back corner of an art gallery in front of a strange painting with no real pattern or color.

“It looks like a child threw up, then someone sat on it,” Castiel remarked as he leaned against Dean’s chest. “This is considered art?”

“Yes,” Dean answered softly, his voice warm and comforting in Castiel’s ear, “but you don’t have stare at it or like it. Why don’t you come over this way and look at the scuptures?” He tugged on Castiel’s arm as he moved toward the other end of the gallery. “I want you to see something.”

Castiel followed behind Dean but he wasn’t sure why they were heading over to the opposite end of the gallery. Dean was supposed to have seven pieces on display in the gallery and although Castiel had checked out all the walls, he hadn’t come across one of Dean’s works. “Why are we looking here?” He asked as they made their way through the crowd. “I thought we were looking for your works,” he pointed over his shoulder to the opposite end of the gallery, “which are supposed to be that way.”

“We are,” Dean teased as he escorted Castiel over to the far wall which was covered completely by Dean’s artwork. “What do you think?”

Castiel stared in awe at the sheer size of the piece. From corner to corner, ceiling to floor, the entire area had been taken up by an amazing scene. Somehow, Dean created a three dimensional, colorful, underwater coral reef landscape, with thousands of tropical fish, a gradient, sandy, floor and several fishing boats sitting on top of the water.

“How did you do this?” Castiel asked, eyes full of excited pride. “Dean, this is incredible.” He walked along the work, grinning happily as Dean explained how he painted each fish, every piece of coral, and how he used precision to give it a life like feel.

“This was my favorite part to draw.” Dean pointed to the fishing boat where two men sat side by side, feet dangling over the side of the boat, sunglasses and broad brimmed hats shielding their faces from the sun. “I pictured us as I worked on it.”

“It’s beautiful, Dean,” Castiel admitted before he yawned. He quickly covered his mouth with his hand trying to keep Dean from seeing. Only he knew it didn’t work when Dean placed a gentle, comforting hand on the small of his back. “Dean you don’t…” He started only to be cut off by Dean escorting him out of the gallery, and into the parking lot. “Where are we going? Shouldn’t you be back inside? This is your opening.”

“I have talked to more than enough people that I don’t know or care about tonight,” Dean explained as he led Castiel over to the Impala. “It’s time to go home, have you stretched out and relaxed in my bed, and then I can….”

Castiel shut Dean up easily enough with a passionate kiss. “You can’t finish that sentence in the parking lot. You can finish it when I’m in your bed,” he remarked with his hands on Dean’s hips leaving the soldier turned sheriff’s detective breathless. 

“Let’s go home,” Dean smirked before he unlocked the car. He knew he was lucky to have a place to call ‘home’ and wasn’t on the run. Dean was grateful that Sam worked so hard to get the story out about the experiment and once that broke, the military brass decided to quickly arrest, try, and convict General Victor Henricksen, and leave Dean Winchester be.

Dean drove them home with one hand on the wheel and the other covering Cass’. “Bobby called and explained that he would be in late tomorrow night,” Dean added before he turned his head just enough to glance at his boyfriend. “He got caught in that massive blizzard.”

“You did tell him that he doesn’t have to drive through that?” Castiel knew that Dean tried to talk the older man into just waiting out the storm and driving after it passed, but Bobby was having none of that.

“At least we have some time to spend together,” Dean remarked as he pulled into the parking lot of his building.

“Three days off in a row,” Castiel grinned before he leaned over and quickly kissed Dean’s lips, “I haven’t had that in a while.” 

“I put in so much overtime that I can’t go back to the station until Sunday,” Dean admitted as they got out the car.

Since the incident, Dean moved out of the studio apartment into a wonderful three bedroom town house on Castiel's side of town that had more room for his artwork and supplies. He unlocked the front door and flipped on the light making sure Castiel was inside before he shut the door.

“Mind checking the machine? I know Sam said he couldn’t make the opening because of a case but I’m not sure if he is coming this weekend or next. I’ll get us something to drink.”

“Sure,” Castiel turned and walked in that direction. He flipped on the light to the studio and gasped just as Dean’s hands came around his waist.

“I wanted to show you first,” Dean explained before he stopped in front of three, life sized, anatomically correct male statues, posed in various states. “What do you think?”

Castiel let out a sharp gasp at the sight. “Is that me?”

“That is you, baby,” Dean smirked before he walked Castiel over to a pale pink statue of a man kneeling with his hands behind his back. “What do you think?”

“When did you do this?” Castiel questioned with a great deal of happiness in his eyes. “How did you do this without making a body cast of me?”

“Cass, we’ve been together for over a year,” Dean purred in his ear in a low tone. “I have mapped your body over and over again. I can sculpt you in my sleep.”

“These are amazing, Dean,” Castiel blushed as he turned and faced his lover. “Thank you.”

“I think this one is my favorite though,” Dean walked Castiel over to the statue of Cass standing straight, shoulders back and chin up, with the entire nerve system painted in bright blue that perfectly matched Castiel’s eyes. “Took me forever to get the paint color right.”

“Dean,” Castiel couldn’t believe the detail. It was almost as if Dean traced Castiel’s nervous system onto the plaster. “This is…” He turned quickly, so much love shining in his eyes, as he embraced Dean. “Thank you.” He muttered into Dean’s chest.

“I wanted to show you that I’m always thinking of you,” Dean admitted as he traced his fingers up and down the doctor’s back.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Castiel whispered as he tucked his head just a bit. He had to admit this was one grand gesture and loved it.

“You’re important to me,” Dean explained as he slowly led Castiel away from the sculptures and towards the cot Dean set up in the studio for model posing or just when he needed to catch a quick nap. “I wanted to do something big for you like you did for me.” He tapped his finger tips against Castiel’s right temple. “You went through a lot during all that, stuff you shouldn’t have had to, and this was my way of thanking you.”

Castiel smiled as he pushed Dean down on the cot. His hands went down Dean’s shirt, as he slowly worked the buttons through the holes.  
He unbutton the top three before he placed his hand squarely center on Dean’s chest and felt Dean’s pulse against his palm. He loved this, touching Dean, feeling the warmth, knowing that this was real and Dean was next to him.

“I love you,” Castiel whispered as he slowly spread his hands over Dean’s chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no more; that was the end. What did you think of the ride? I hope you enjoyed this work. Thank you for reading.


End file.
